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UNITED STATES OE AMERICA. 






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EW York 

OH/^ -W- |py ELL- (a'APANY- 

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BY 


GUSTA^pjlJ 
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AUTHOR OF f L 


“ Bee-Hunters^^* ' 
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ErJtJred^tTheT^oatOffice^^Taa^econdUcUlsrmltterr^TomT^ht^SM^^foMN'^^rTIovsEtTloMPAjIT^TsSuetPfn?^ 

Annual Subscription. liJO.OO. December 26. 1887. 






“The Diane. 


Particular attention is invited to 
onr new French Corset, ‘‘ The Diane,’’ 
ranging in i^rice from $1.50 to $5.50 
each. Onr customers are cordially 
invited to examine these most excel- 
lent Paris-made Corsets, which com- 
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STUDIES IN ENGLISH SPELLING. 


FIRST LESSON. 

A wealthy young man had a yacht, 
Disfigured with many a spacht, 
SAPOLIO he tried, 

Which, as soon as applied, 
Immediately took out the lacht! 

SECOND LESSON. 

Our girl o’er the housework would sigh, 
Till SAPOLIO I urged her to trigh. 

Now she changes her tune, 

For she’s done work at nune. 

Which accounts for the light in her eigh! 

THIRD LESSON. 

There’s many a domestic embroglio — 

To describe which would need quite a 
foglio. 

Might oft be prevented 
If the housewife consented 
To clean out the house with S APOGLIO! 


FOURTH LESSON. 

Maria’s poor fingers would ache, 

When the housework in hand she would 
tache, 

But her pains were allayed, 

When SAPOLIO’S aid. 

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FIFTH LESSON. 

We have heard of some marvelous scaps 
Whose worth has exceed.id our hoaps. 
But it must be confest, 

That SAPOLIO’S the best 
For with grease spots it easily coaps! 

SIXTH LESSON. 

The wife of a popular colonel 
Whose troubles with “helps” were etol- 
onel 

Now her leisure enjoys 
For the “new girl” employs 
SAPOLIO in housework diolonel! 


LOVELL LIBRARY ADVERTISER. 


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LOVELL’S LIBBAR7. 


COMPLETE CATALOGUE BY AUTHORS. 

Lovell’s Library now contains the complete writings of most of the best standard 
authors, such as Dickens, Thackeray, Eliot, Carlyle, Buskin, Scott, Lytton, Black, etc., 
etc. 

Each number is issued in neat 12mo form, and the type will be found larger, and the 
paper better, than in any other cheap series published. 

JOHN W. liOVELIi COMPANY, 

P. O. Box 1992. 14: and 16 Vesey- Street, New York, 


BY AUTHOR OF “ ADDIE’S HUS- 


BAND ” 

1106 Jessie 20 

BY G. M. ADAM AND A. E. 
WETHERALD 

846 An Algonquin Maiden 20 

BY MAX ADELER 

295 Bandom Shots 20 

325 Elbow Boom 20 

BY GUSTAVE AIMARD 

560 The Adventurers 10 

667 The Trail-Hunter. 10 

573 Pearl of the Andes 10 

1011 Pirates of the Prairies 10 

1021 The Trapper’s Daughter 10 

1032 The Tiger Slayer 10 

1045 Trappers of Arkansas 10 

1052 Border Rifles 10 

1063 The Freebooters 10 

1069 The White Scalper 10 

1071 Guide of the Desert .10 

1075 The Insurgent Chief 10 

1079 The Flying Horseman 10 

1081 Last of the Ancas 10 

1086 Missouri Outlaws 10 

1089 Prairie Flower 10 

1098 Indian Scout 10 

1101 Sti'onghand 10 

1103 Bee Hunters 10 

1107 Stoneheart 10 

1112 Queen of the Savannah 10 

1115 The Buccaneer Chief 10 

1118 The Smuggler Hero ..... 10 

1121 The Rebel Chief 10 

BY MRS. ALDERDICE 

846 An Interesting Case 20 

BY MRS. ALEXANDER 

62 The Wooing O’t, 2 Parts, each 16 

99 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

209 The Executor 20 

349 Valerie’s Fate 10 

664 At Bay 10 

746 Beaton’s Bargain 20 

777 A Second Life 20 

799 Maid. Wife, or Widow 10 

840 By Woman’s Wit 20 

995 Which Shall it Be? 20 

1044 Forging the Fetters 10 

1106 Mona’s Choice 20 


BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 


419 Fairy Tales 20 

BY F. ANSTEY 

SO Vice Vers^; or, A Lesson to Fathers. . 20 

394 The Giant’s Robe 20 

453 Black Poodle, and Other Tales 20 

616 The Tinted Venus 15 

7,55 A Fallen Idol...., 20 

BY EDWIN ARNOLD 

436 The Light of Asia 20 

455 Pearls of the Faith 16 

472 Indian Song of Songs 10 

BY T. S. ARTHUR 

496 Woman’s Trials 20 

507 The Two Wives 15 

518 Married Life 15 

638 The Ways of Providence 15 

545 Home Scenes 15 

554 Stories for Parents 15 

563 Seed-Time and Harvest 15 

568 Words for the Wise 15 

674 Stories for Young Housekeepers 15 

579 Lessons iu Life 15 

582 Off-Hand Sketches 15 

685 Tried and Tempted 16 

BY EDWARD AVELING 

1066 An American Journey 30 

BY W. E. AYTOUN 

351 Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers ...... 20 

BY ADAM BADEAU 

756 Conspiracy 26 

BY SIR SAMUEL BAKER 

206 Cast np by the Sea 20 

227 Rifle and Hound in Ceylon 20 

233 Eight Years’ Wandering in Ceylon. .20 

BY C W. BALESTIER 

381 A Fair Device 20 

405 Life of J. G. Blaine 20 

BY R. M. BALLANTYNE 

215 The Red Eric 20 

226 The Fire Brigade 20 

239 Erling the Bold 20 

241 Deep Down 20 

BY S. BARING-GOULD 

875 Little Tu’peuny 10 

1061 Red Spider 20 


1 


LOVELL’S LIBRAKY. 


BY FRANK BARRETT 


BY R. D. BLACKMORE 


1009 The Great Hesper 


20 


BY GEORGE MIDDLETON BAYNE 

460 Galaski 20 

BY ADGDST BEBEL 

712 Woman 30 

BY MRS. E. BEDELL BENJAMIN 

748 Our Roman Palace 20 

1077 Jim, the Parson 20 


BY A. BENRIMO 

470 Vic 15 

BY E. BERGER 

901 Charles Auchester 20 

BY W. BERGSOE 

77 Pillone 15 

BY E. BERTHET 

366 The Sergeant’s Legacy 20 


BY WALTER BESANT 


18 They Were Married 10 

103 Let Nothing You Dismay 10 

257 All in a Garden Fair 20 

268 When the Ship Comes Home 10 

384 Dorothy Forster 20 

699 Self or Bearer 10 

842 The World Went Very Well Then . .20 

847 The Holy Rose 10 

1002 To Gal) Her Mine 20 

1109 Katharine Regina 20 

BY BJORNSTJERNE BJ0RNS02T 

3 The Happy Boy 10 

4 Arne ■. 10 


40 

48 

82 

85 

93 

136 

142 

146 

153 

178 

180 

182 

184 

188 

213 

216 

217 

218 
225 
2:12 
456 
584 
678 
958 


BY WILLIAM BLACK 


An Adventure in Thule, etc 10 

A Princess of Thule. 20 

A Daughter of Heth 20 

Shandon Bells 20 

Macleod of Dare 20 

Yolande 20 

Strange Adventures of a Phaeton. . .20 

White Wings 20 

Sunrise, 2 Parts, each 15 

Madcap Violet 20 

Kilmeny 20 

That Beautiful Wretch 20 

Green Pastures, etc 20 

In Silk Attire 20 

The Three Feathers 20 

Lady Silverdale’s Sweetheart 10 

The Four MacNicols 10 

Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P 10 

Oliver Goldsmith 10 


I 


Monarch of Mincing Lane 20 

Judith Shakespeare 20 


Wise Women of Inverness 10 

White Heather 20 

Sabina Zembra 20 


BY LILLIE D. BLAKE 


105 Woman’s Place To-day 20 

597 Fettei'ed for Life 25 

BY KEMPER BOCOCK 

1078 Tax the Area 20 


851 Lorna Doone, Part 1 20 

851 Lorna Doone, Part II 20 

936 Maid of Sker 20 

955 Cradock Nowell, Part 1 20 

955 Cradock Nowell, Part II 20 

961 Springhaven 20 

1034 Mary Anerley 20 

1035 Alice Lorraine 20 

1036 Cristowell 20 

1037 Clara Vaughan 20 

1038 Cripps the Carrier 20 

1039 Remarkable History of Sir Thos. 

XJprnore .20 

1040 Erema ; or. My Father’s Sin . ... 20 

BY RHODA BROUGHTON 

23 Second Thoughts 20 

2:10 Belinda 20 

781 Betty’s Visions .15 

841 Dr. Cupid 20 

1022 Good-Bye, Sweetheart ... 20 

1023 Red as a Rose is She 20 

1024 Cometh up as a Flower 20 

1025 Not Wisely but too Well 20 

1026 Nancy 20 

1027 Joan 20 

BY ANNIE BRADSHAW 

716 A Crimson Stain 20 

BY CHARLOTTE BREMER 

448 Life of Fredrika Bremer .20 

BY CHARLOTTE BRONTE 

74 Jane Eyre 20 

897 Shirley 20 

BY MISS M‘ E. BRADDON 

88 The Golden Call 20 

104 Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

214 Phantom Fortune 20 

266 Under the Red Flag 10 

444 An Ishmaelite 20 

555 A urora Floyd 20 

588 To the Bitter End 20 

596 Dead Sea Fruit ...20 

698 The Mistletoe Bough 20 

766 Vixen 20 

783 The Octoroon 20 

814 Mohawks 20 

868 One Thing Needful 20 

869 Barbara ; or. Splendid Misery 20 

870 John Marchmont’s Legacy 20 

871 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter 20 

872 Taken at the Flood 20 

873 Asphodel 20 

877 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

878 Only a Clod 20 

879 Sir J asper’s Tenant 20 

880 Lady’s Mile 20 

881 Birds of Prey 20 

882 Charlotte’s Inheritance 20 

883 Rupert Godwin 20 

886 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

887 A Strange World 20 

888 Mount Royal 20 

889 Just As I Am 20 

890 Dead Men’s Shoes 20 

892 Hostages to Fortune 20 

893 Fenton’s Quest 20 

894 The Cloven Foot 20 


2 


LOVELL’S LIBKARY 


BY ELIZABETH BARRETT 


BROWNING 

421 Aurora Leigh 20 

479 Poems 35 

BY ROBERT BROWNING 

552 Selections from Poetical Works 20 

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 

443 Poems 20 

BY ROBERT BUCHANAN 

318 The New Abelard 20 

096 The Master of the Mine 10 

BY JOHN BUNYAN 

200 The Pilgrim’s Progress 20 

BY ROBERT BURNS 

430 Poems 20 

BY REV. JAS. S. BUSH 

113 More Words about the Bible 20 

BY E. LASSETER BYNNER 

100 Nimport, 2 Parts, each 15 

102 Tritons, 2 Parts, each 15 

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL 

526 Poems 20 

BY LEWIS CARROLL 

480 Alice’s Adventures 20 

481 Through the Looking-Glass. 20 

BY THOMAS CARLYLE 

486 History of French Revolution, 2 

Parts, each 25 

494 Past and Present 20 

500 The Diamond Necklace ; and Mira- 

beau ; 20 

503 Chartism 20 

508 Sartor Rcsartus 20 

514 Early Kings of Norway 20 

520 Jean Paul Friedrich Richter 10 

622 Goethe, and Miscellaneous Essays. . .10 

525 Life of Heyne 15 

528 Voltaire and Novalis 15 

541 Heroes, and Hero-Worship 20 

546 Signs of the Times 15 

550 German Literature 15 

661 Portraits of John Knox 15 

571 Count Cagliostro, etc 15 

578 Frederick the Great, Vol. I 20 

580 “ “ “ Vol. II 20 

691 « “ “ Vol. Ill 20 

610 “ “ “ Vol. IV 20 

619 “ “ “ Vol. V 20 

622 “ “ “ Vol. VI 20 

626 “ “ “ Vol. VII 20 

628 “ “ “ Vol. VIII 20 

630 Life of John Sterling 20 

688 Latter-Day Pamphlets 20 

636 Life of Schiller .20 

643 Oliver Cromwell, Vol. 1 25 

646 “ “ Vol. II 25 

649 “ “ Vol. Ill 25 

652 Characteristics and other Essays. . . 15 
656 Corn Law Rhymes and other Essays. 15 
658 Baillie the Covenanter and other Es- 
says 15 

661 Dr. Francia and other Essays 15 

1088 Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, 

2 Parts, each 20 

1090 Wilhelm Meister’s Travels 20 


BY ROSA NOUCHETE CAREY 


660 For Lilias 20 

911 Not Like other Girls 20 

912 Robert Ord’s Atonement 20 

959 Wee Wifie 20 

960 W ooed and Married 20 

BY WM. CARLETON 

190 Willy Reilly 20 

820 Shane Fadh’s Wedding 10 

821 Larry McFarland’s Wake 10 

822 The Party Fight and Funeral 10 

823 The Midnight Mass 10 

824 PhilPurcel 10 

825 An Irish Oath ; 10 

826 Going to Maynooth 10 

827 Phelim O’Toole’s Courtehip 10 

828 Dominick, the Poor Scholar 10 

829 Neal Malone 10 

BY “ CAVENDISH” 

422 Cavendish Card Essays 16 

BY CERVANTES 

417 Don Quixote 30 

BY L. W. CHAMPNEY 

119 Bourbon Lilies 20 

BY VICTOR CHERBULIEZ 

242 Samuel Brohl & Co 20 

BY REV. JAS. FREEMAN CLARK 

167 Anti- Slavery Days 20 

BY CRISTABEL R. COLERIDGE 

1028 A Near Relation 20 

BY S. T. COLERIDGE 

523 Poems 30 

BY J. FENIMORE COOPER 

6 The Last of the Mohicans 20 

58 The Spy 20 

365 The Pathfinder 20 

378 Homeward Bound 20 

441 Home as Found 20 

463 The Deerslayer 30 

467 The Prairie 20 

47 1 The Pion eer 25 

484 The Two Admirals 20 

488 The Water- Witch 20 

491 The Red Rover 20 

.501 The Pilot 20 

506 Wing and Wing 20 

512 Wyandotte 20 

517 Heidenmauer 20 

519 The Headsman 20 

524 The Bravo 20 

527 Lionel Lincoln 20 

529 Wept of Wish-ton-Wish 20 

582 Afloat and Ashore 20 

5:39 Miles WallingEord 20 

543 TheMonikins ...20 

548 Mercedes of Castile 20 

553 The Sea Lions.. 20 

559 The Crater 20 

562 Oak Openings 20 

570 Satanstoe 20 

576 The Chain-Bearer 20 

587 Ways of the Hour 20 

001 Precaution 20 

603 Redskins 25 

611 Jack Tier 20 


3 


LOVELL’S LIBRART. 


BY BERTHA M. CLAY 


183 Her Mother’s Sin 20 

277 Dora Thorne 20 

287 Beyond Pardon 20 

420 A Broken Wedding-Ring 20 

423 Repented at Leisure 20 

458 Sunshine and Roses .20 

465 The Earl’s Atonement 20 

474 A Woman’s Temptation 20 

476 Love Works Wonders 20 

658 Fair but False 10 

593 Between Two Sins 10 

651 At War with Herself 15 

669 Hilda 10 

689 Her Martyrdom 20 

692 Lord Lynn’s Choice 10 

694 The Shadow of a Sin 10 

695 Wedded and Parted 10 

700 In Cupid’s Net 10 

701 Lady Darner’s Secret. 20 

718 A Gilded Sin 10 

720 Between Two Loves 20 

727 For Another’s Sin 20 

730 Romance of a Young Girl 20 

733 A Queen Amongst Women 10 

738 A Golden Dawn 10 

739 Like no Other Love 10 

740 A Bitter Atonement 20 

744 Evelyn’s Folly 20 

752 Set in Diamonds 20 

764 A Fair Mystery 20 

800 Thorns and Orange Blossoms 10 

801 Romance of a Black Veil ....10 

803 Love's Warfare 10 

804 Madolin’s Lover 20 

806 From Out the Gloom 20 

807 Wliich Loved Him Best 10 

808 A True Magdalen 20 

809 The Sin of a Lifetime 20 

810 Prince Charlie’s Daughter 10 

811 A Golden Heart 10 

812 Wife in Name Only 20 

815 A Woman’s Error 20 

896 Marjorie 20 

922 A Wilful Maid 20 

923 Lady Castlemaine’s Divorce 20 

926 Claribel’s Love Story 20 

928 Thrown on the World 20 

929 U nder a Shadow 20 

930 A Struggle for a Ring 20 

932 Hilary's Folly 20 

933 A Haunted Life 20 

934 A Woman’s Love Story 20 

969 A Woman’s War 20 

984 'Twixt Smile and Tear 20 

985 Lady Diana’s Pride 20 

986 B.dle of Lynn ....20 

988 Marjorie's Fate 20 

989 S vveet Cymbeline 20 

1007 Redeemed by Love 20 

1012 Tile Squire's Darling 10 

1013 The Mystery of Colde Fell 20 

1030 On Her Wedding Morn 10 

1031 The Shattered Idol 10 

1033 Letty Leigh 10 

1041 The Mystery of the Holly Tree 10 

1042 The Earl’s Error 10 

1043 Arnold’s Promise 10 

1051 An Unnatural Bondage 10 

1064 The Duke’s Secret 20 


BY WILKIE COLLINS 


8 The Moonstone, Part 1 10 

9 The Moonstone, Part II. 10 

24 The New Magdalen 20 

87 Heart and Science 20 

418 “I Say No” 20 

437 Tales of Two Idle Apprentices 15 

683 The Ghost’s Touch 10 

686 My Lady’s Money 10 

722 The Evil Genius 20 

889 The Guilty River 10 

957 The Dead Secret 20 

996 The Queen of Hearts 20 

1003 The Haunted Hotel 10 

BY HUGH CONWAY 

429 Called Back 15 

462 Dark Days 15 

612 Carriston’s Gift 10 

617 Paul Vargas: a Mystery 10 

6)31 A Family Affair 20 

667 Story of a Sculptor 10 

672 Slings and Arrows 10 

715 A Cardinal Sin. 20 

745 Living or Dead 20 

750 Somebody’s Story 10 

968 Bound by a Spell 20 

BY C. H. W. COOK 

1099 The True Solution of the Labor 
Qiiestion 10 

BY KINAHAN CORNWALLIS 

409 Adrift with a Vengeance 25 

BY GEORGIANA M. CRAIK 

1006 A Daughter of the People 20 

BY R. CRISWELL 

350 Grandfather Lickshingle 20 

BY R. H. DANA, JR. 

464 Two Years before the Mast 20 

BY DANTE 

345 Dante’s Visioi\ of Hell, Purgatory, 

and Paradise 20 

BY FLORA A. DARLING 

260 Mrs. Darling’s War Letters 20 

BY JOYCE DARRELL 

315 Winifred Power 20 

BY ALPHONSE DAUDET 

478 Tartarin of Tarascon 20 

604 Sidonie 20 

613 Jack 20 

615 The Little Good-for-Nothing 20 

645 The Nabob .25 

BY REV. C. H. DAVIES, D.D. 

453 Mystic London 20 

BY THE DEAN OF ST. PAUL’S 

431 Life of Spenser 10 

BY C. DEBANS 

475 A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing 20 

BY REV. C. F. DEEMS, D.D. 

704 E voluti on 20 

BY DANIEL DEFOE 

428 Robinson Crusoe 26 


4 


LOVELL’S LIBKAKY. 


BY THOS. BE QBINCEY 


20 The Spanish Nun 10 

1070 Confessions of an English Opium 

Eater 20 

BY GAEL DETLEF 

29 Irene; or, The Lonely Manor 20 

BY CHAKLES DICKENS 

10 Oliver Twist 20 

38 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

75 Child’s History of England 20 

91 Pickwick Papers, 2 Parts, each 20 

140 The Cricket on the Hearth 10 

144 Old Curiosity Shop, 2 Parts, each. . . 15 

150 Barnaby Rudge, 2 Parts, each 15 

158 David Copperfield, 2 Parts, each 20 

170 Hard Times 20 

192 Great Expectations 20 

201 Martin Chuzzlewit, 2 Parts, each. . . .20 

210 American Notes 20 

219 Dombey and Son, 2 Parts, each 20 

223 Little Dorrit, 2 Parts, each 20 

228 Our Mutual Friend, 2 Parts, each... 20 

231 Nicholas Nickleby, 2 Parts, each 20 

234 Pictures from Italy 15 

237 The Boy at Mugby 10 

244 Bleak House, 2 Parts, each 20 

246 Sketches of the Young Couples 10 

261 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

267 The Haunted House, etc 10 

270 The Mudfog Papers, etc 10 

273 Sketches by Boz 20 

274 A Christmas Carol, etc 15 

282 Uncommercial Traveller 20 

288 Somebody’s Luggage, etc 10 

293 The Battle of Life, etc 10 

297 Mystery of Edwin Drood 20 

298 Reprinted Pieces 20 

302 No Thoroughfare 15 

437 Tales of Two Idle Apprentices 10 

BY PROF. DOWDEN 

404 Life of Southey 10 

BY JOHN DEYDEN 

498 Poems SO 

BY THE “DUCHESS” 

58 Portia 20 

76 Molly Bawn 20 

78 Phyllis 20 

86 Monica 10 

90 Mrs. Geoffrey 20 

92 Airy Fairy Lilian 20 

126 Loys, Lord Beresford 20 

132 Moonshine and Marguerites 10 

162 Faith and Unfaith 20 

168 Beauty’s Daughters 20 

284 Rossmoyne 20 

451 Doris 20 

477 A Week in Killarney 10 

530 In Durance Vile 10 

618 Dick’s Sweetheart ; or, “ O Tender 

Dolores” 20 

621 A Maiden all Forlorn 10 

624 A Passive Crime 10 

721 Lady Branksmere 20 

735 A Mental Struggle 20 

737 The Haunted Chamber 10 

792 HerlWeek’s Amusement 10 

802 Lady Valvvorth's Diamonds 20 

1065 A Modern Circe 20 

1072 The Duchess 20 


BY F. DU BOISGOBEY 

1018 The Condemned Door 20 

1080 The Blue Veil; or. The Crime of 

the Tower 20 

1120 The Matapan Affair 20 

BY LORD DUFFEEIN 

95 Letters from High Latitudes 20 

BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS, JE. 

992 Camille 10 

BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS 

761 Count of Monte Cristo, Part 1 20 

761 Count of Monte Cristo, Part II 20 

775 The Three Guardsmen 20 

786 Twenty Years After 20 

884 The Son of Monte Cristo, Part I. . . .20 

884 The Son of Monte Cristo, Pai't II. . .20 

885 Monte Cristo and His Wife 20 

891 Countess of Monte Cristo, Part I... 20 
891 Countess of M<>nte Cristo, Part II... 20 
998 Beau Tancrede 20 

BY MRS. ANNIE EDWARDS 

681 A Girton Girl 20 

BY M. BETHAM-EDWARDS 

203 Disarmed 15 

663 The Flower of Doom 10 

1005 Next of Kin 20 

BY GEORGE ELIOT 

56 Adam Bede, 2 Parts, each 15 

69 Amos Barton 10 

71 Silas Marner 10 

79 Romola, 2 Parts, each 16 

149 Janet’s Repentance 10 

151 Felix Holt 20 

174 Middlemarch, 2 Parts, each 20 

195 Daniel Deronda, 2 Parts, each 20 

202 Theophrastus Such 10 

205 The Spanish Gypsy.and other Poems20 

207 The Mill on the Floss, 2 Parts, each. 15 

208 Brother Jacob, cl'. 10 

374 Essays, and Leaves from a Note- 

Book 20 

BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON 

373 Essays 20 

ENGLISH MEN OF LETTERS. 
EDITED BY JOHN MOBLEY 

348 Bunyan, by J. A. Fronde 10 

407 Burke, by John Morley 10 

334 Burns, by Principal Shairp 10 

347 Byron, by Professor Nichol 10 

413 Chaucer, by Prof. A. W. Ward 10 

424 Cowper, by Gold win Smith 10 

377 Defoe, by William Minto 10 

383 Gibbon, by J. C. Morrison 10 

225 Goldsmith, by William Black 10 

369 Hume, by Professor Huxley 10 

401 Johnson, by Leslie Stephen 10 

380 Locke, by Thomas Fowler 10 

392 Milton, by Mark Pattison 10 

398 Pope, by Leslie Stephen 10 

364 Scott, by R. H. Hutton 10 

361 Shelley, by J. Symonds 10 

404 Southey, by Professor Dowd en . ...10 
431 Spenser, by the Dean of St. Paul’s. . 10 
344 Thackeray, by Anthony Trollope. ..10 
410 Wordsworth, by F. Myers *...10 


5 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY 


BY B. L. FARJEON 

243 Gautran ; or, House of White Shad- 


ows 20 

654 Love’s Harvest 20 

874 Nine of Hearts 20 

BY HARRIET FARLEY 

473 Christmas Stories 20 

BY F. W. FARRAR, D.D. 

19 Seekers after G 20 

60 Early Days of Christianity^ 2 Parts, 

each 20 

BY GEORGE MANNVILLE FENN 

1004 This Man’s Wife 20 

1060 The Bag of Diamonds 20 

BY OCTAVE FEUILLET 

41 A Marriage in High Life 20 

987 Romance of a Poor Young Man. , , . 10 

BY MRS. FORRESTER 

760 Fair Women 20 

818 Once Again 20 

843 My Lord and My Lady 20 

844 Dolores 20 

850 My Hero 20 

859 Viva 20 

860 Omnia Vanitas 10 

861 Diana Carew 20 

862 From Olympus to Hades 20 

863 Rhona 20 

864 Roy and Viola 20 

865 June 20 

866 Mignon 20 

867 A Young Man’s Fancy 20 

BY FRIEDRICH, BARON DE LA 

MOTTE FOUQUE 

711 Undine 10 

BY THOMAS FOWLER 

880 Life of Locke 10 

BY FRANCESCA 

177 The Story of Ida 10 

BY R. E. FRANCILLON 

319 A Real Queen 20 

856 Golden Bells 10 

BY ALBERT FRANKLYN 

122 Ameline de Bourg 16 

BY L. VIRGINIA FRENCH 

485 My Roses 20 

BY J. A. FROUDE 

348 Life of Bunyan 10 

BY EMILE GABORIAU 

114 Monsieur Lecoq, 2 Parts, each 20 

116 The Lerouge Case 20 

120 Other People’s Money 20 

129 In Peril of His Life 20 

138 The Gilded Clique 20 

155 Mystery of Orcival 20 

161 Promise of Marriage 10 

258 File No. 113 20 

1119 The Little Old Man of the Bati- 

gnolles 20 

1123 The Count’s Millions, Part 1 20' 

“ “ “ Part II 20 


BY HENRY GEORGE 

52 Progress and Poverty 20 

390 Land Question 10 

393 Social Problems 20 

796 Property in Land 15 

BY CHARLES GIBBON 

57 The Goldea Shaft 20 

BY J. W. VON GOETHE 

342 Goethe's Faust 20 

343 Goethe's Po-^ras 20 

1088 Wilhelm Moister’s Apprenticeship, 

2 Parts, each 20 

1090 Wilhelm Melster's Travels 20 

BY NIKOLAI V. GOGOL 

1016 Taras Bulba 20 

BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

51 Vicar of Wakefield .. 10 

362 Plays and Poems 20 

BY MRS. GORE - 

89 The Dean’s Daughter 20 

BY JAMES GRANT 

49 The Secret Despatch 20 

BY HENRI GREVILLE 

1001 Frankley 20 

BY CECIL GRIFFITH 

732 Victory Deane 20 

BY ARTHUR GRIFFITHS 

709 No. 99 10 

THE BROTHERS GRIMM 

221 Fairy Tales, Illustrated 20 

BY lAURENCE GRONLUND 

1096 The Co-operative Commonwealth. .30 

BY LIEUT. J. W. GUNNISON 

440 History of the Mormons 16 

BY F. W. HACKLANDER 

606 Forbidden Fruit 20 

BY ERNST HAECKEL 

97 India and Ceylon 20 

BY H. RIDER HAGGARD 

813 King Solomon’s Mines 20 

848 She 20 

876 The Witch’s Head 20 

900 Jess 20 

941 Dawn 20 

1020 Allan Quatermain 20 

1100 Tale of Three Lions 10 

BY A. EGMONT HAKE 

371 The Story of Chinese Goi don .20 

BY LUDOVIC HALEVY 

15 L’Abbo Constantin 20 

BY THOMAS HARDY 

43 Two on a Tower 20 

157 Romantic Adventures of a Milk- 
maid 10 

749 The Mayor of Casterbridge 20 

956 The Woodlanders 20 

964 Par from the Madding Crowd 20 

BY MARION HARLAND 


107 Housekeeping and Homemaking... .15 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY. 


BY JOHN HARRISON AND M. 


COMPTON 

414 Over the Summer Sea 20 

BY J. B. HARWOOD 

269 One False, both Fail* 20 

BY JOSEPH HATTON 

7 Clytie 20 

137 Cruel London 20 

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 

370 Twice Told Tales 20 

376 Grandfather’s Chair 20 

BY MARY CECIL HAY 

466 Under the Will 10 

666 The Arundel Motto 20 

590 Old My ddleton’a Money 20 

787 A Wicked Girl 10 

971 Nora's Love Test 20 

972 The Squire’s Legacy 20 

973 Dorothy’s Venture 20 

974 My First Offer 10 

975 Back to the Old Home 10 

976 For Her Dear Sake 20 

977 Hidden Perils 20 

978 Victor and Vanquished 20 

1029 Brenda Yorke 10 

BY MRS. FELICIA. HEMANS 

683 Poems 30 

BY DAVID J. HILL, LL.D. 

533 Principles and Fallacies of Social- 
ism 15 

BY M. L. HOLBROOK, M.D. 

356 Hj^giene of the Brain 25 

BY MRS. M. A. HOLMES 

709 Woman against Woman 20 

743 A Woman’s Vengeance 20 

BY PAXTON HOOD 

73 Life of Cromwell 15 

BY THOMAS HOOD 

611 Poems 3C 

BY HORRY AND WEEMS 

36 Life of Marion 20 

BY ROBERT HOUDIN 

14 The Tricks of the Greeks 20 

BY ADAH M. HOWARD 

970 Against Her Will 20 

993 The Child Wife 10 

BY MARIE HOWLAND 

634 Papa’s Own Girl 30 

BY EDWARD HOWLAND 

742 Social Solutions, Part I 10 

747 “ “ Part II 10 

753 “ “ Part III 10 

762 “ “ Part IV 10 

765 “ “ PartV 10 

774 “ “ PartVL... 10 

778 “ ‘ Part VTI 10 

782 “ “ Part VIII 10 

785 “ Part IX 10 

788 ‘‘ “ PartX 10 

791 “ “ Part XI 10 

795 “ “ Part XII 10 


536 


61 

186 


784 

784 

784 


109 


364 


369 


147 

198 

199 


224 

236 

249 

263 

272 

279 

281 

290 

299 

301 

805 

308 

310 

311 
314 
321 


17 


44 


754 


631 


111 


106 


67 


39 

64 


726 

728 

731 

736 


BY JOHN W. HOYT, LL.D. 


Studies in Civil Service. . . 16 

BY THOMAS HUGHES 

Tom Brown’s School Days 20 

Tom Brown at Oxford, 2 Parts, each . 15 

BY VICTOR HUGO 

Les Miserables, Part 1 20 

“ “ Part II 20 

“ Part III 20 

BY STANLEY HUNTLEY 

The Spoopendyke Papers 20 

BY R. H. HUTTON 

Life of Scott 20 

BY PROF. HUXLEY 

Life of Hume 10 

BY WASHINGTON IRVING 

The Sketch Book 20 

Tales of a Traveller 20 

Life and Voyages of Columbus, 

Part 1 20 

Life and Voyages of Columbus, 

Part II 20 

Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey. . .10 
Knickerbocker History of New York. 20 

The Crayon Papers 20 

The Alhambra 15 

Conquest of Granada 20 

Conquest of Spain 10 

Bracebridge Hall 20 

Salmagundi 20 

Astoria 20 

Spanish Voyages 20 

A Tour on the Prairies 10 

Life of Mahomet, 2 Parts, each ... .15 

Oliver Goldsmith 20 

Captain Bonneville 20 

Moorish Chronicles 10 

Wolf erf s Roost and Miscellanies .... 10 

BY HARRIET JAY 

The Dark Colleen 20 

BY SAMUEL JOHNSON 

Rasselas 10 

BY MAURICE JOKAI 

A Modern Midas 20 

BY JOHN KEATS 

Poems 25 

BY EDWARD KELLOGG 

Labor and Capital 20 

BY GRACE KENNEDY 

Dunallan, 2 Parts, each 16 

BY JOHN P. KENNEDY 

Horse-Shoe Robinson, 2 Parts, each. 16 

BY CHARLES KINGSLEY 

The Hermits 20 

Hypatia, 2 Parts, each 15 

BY HENRY KINGSLEY 

Austin Eliot 20 

The Hillyars and Burtons 20 

Leighton Court 20 

Geoffrey Hamlyn 30 


7 


lovell’s libeaey. 


BY vr. H. G. KINGSTON 

254 Peter the Whaler 20 

322 Mark Sea worth 20 

324 Round the World 20 

335 The Young Foresters 20 

337 Saltwater 20 

833 The Midshipman 20 

BY F. KIRBY 

454 The Golden Dog {Le chien ^or). . . .40 

BY A. LA POINTE 

445 The Rival Doctors 20 

BY MISS MARGARET LEE 

25 Divorce 20 

600 A Brighton Night 20 

725 Dr. Wilmer’s Love 25 

741 Lorimer and Wife 20 

BY VERNON LEE 

797 A Phantom Lover 10 

798 Prince of the Hundred Soups 10 

BY JULES LERMINA 

469 The Chase 20 

BY CHARLES LEVER 

327 Harry Lorrequer 20 

789 Charles O’Malley, 2 Parts, each 20 

794 Tom Burke of Ours, 2 Parts, each.. 20 

BY H. W. LONGFELLOW 

1 Hyperion 20 

2 Outre-Mer 20 

482 Poems 20 

BY SAMUEL LOVER 

163 The Happy Man 10 

719 Rory O’More .- 20 

849 Handy Andy 20 

BY LORD LYTTON 

11 The Coming Race 10 

12 Leila 10 

31 Ernest Maltravers 20 

32 The Haunted House 10 

45 Alice : A Sequel to Ernest Maltra- 
vers 20 

65 A Strange Story 20 

69 Last Days of Pompeii 20 

81 Zanoni 20 

84 Night and Morning, 2 Parts, each.. 15 

117 Paul Clifford 20 

121 Lady of Lyons 10 

128 Money 10 

152 Richelieu 10 

160 Rienzi, 2 Parts, each 15 

176 Pelham 20 

204 Eugene Aram 20 

222 The Disowned 20 

240 Kenelm Chillingly 20 

245 What Will He Do with It ? 2 Parts, 

each 20 

247 Devereux 20 

250 The Caxtqns, 2 Parts, each 15 

263 Lucretia 20 

'^55 Last of the Barons, 2 Parts, each ... 15 

259 The Parisians. 2 Parts, each 20 

271 My Novel, 3 Parts, each 20 

276 Harold, 2 Parts, each 1.5 

289 Godolphin 20 

294 Pilgrims of the Rhine 15 

317 Pausanias 15 


BY COMMANDER LOVETT-CAM- 
ERON. 

817 The Cruise of the Black Prince. . . .20 

BY MRS. H. LOVETT-CAMERON 


927 pure Gold .....20 

BY HENRY W. LUCY 

96 Gideon Pleyce 20 

BY HENRY C. LUKENS 

131 Jets and Flashes 20 

BY EDNA LYALL 

962 Knights-Errant 20 

BY E. LYNN LYNTON 

275 lone Stewart 20 

BY LORD MACAULAY 

333 Lays of Ancient Rome 20 

BY KATHERINE S. MACQUOID 

898 Joan Wentworth 20 

BY E. MARLITT 

771 The Old Mam’selle’s Secret 20 

1053 Gold Elsie 20 

BY CAPTAIN MARRYAT 

212 The Privateersman 20 

BY FLORENCE MARRYAT. 

903 The Master Passion.. . . .' 20 

904 A Lucky Disappointment 10 

905 Her Lord and Master 20 

906 My Own Child 20 

907 No Intentions 20 

908 Written in Fire 20 

909 A Little Stepson 10 

910 With Cupid’s Eyes 20 

931 Why Not? 20 

937 My Sister the Actress 20 

938 Captain Norton’s Diary 10 

939 Girls of Feversham 20 

940 The Root of all Evil 20 

942 Facing the Footlights 20 

943 Petronel 20 

944 A Star and a Heart 10 

945 Ange 20 

946 A Harvest of Wild Oats 20 

947 The Poison of Asps 10 

948 Fair-Haired Alda 20 

949 The Heir Presumptive 20 

950 Under the Lilies and Roses 20 

951 Heart of Jane Warner 20 

9.52 Love’s Conflict, Parti 20 

9.52 Love’s Conflict, Part II 20 

953 Phyllida 20 

954 Out of His Reckoning 10 

979 Her World against a Lie 20 

990 Open Sesame 20 

991 Mad Dumare.sq 20 

999 Fighting the Air 20 

BY HELEN MATHERS 

165 Eyre’s Acquittal 10 

1046 Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye 20 

1047 Sam’s Sweetheart 20 

1048 Story of a Sin 20 

1 049 Cherry Ripe 20 

1050 My Lady Green Sleeves 20 


8 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY. 


BY HARRIET MARTIHEAB 


S53 Tales of the French Revolution 16 

354 Loom and Lugger 20 

367 Berkeley the Banker 20 

358 Homes Abroad 15 

363 For Each and For All 15 

372 Hill and Valley 16 

379 The Charmed Sea 15 

388 Life in the Wilds 15 

395 Sowers not Reapers 16 

400 Glen of the Echoes 15 

BY A. MATHEY 

46 Duke of Kandos 20 

60 The Two Duchesses 20 

BY W. S. MAYO 

70 The Berber 20 

BY j. H. McCarthy 

115 An Outline of Irish History 10 

BY JUSTIN McCarthy, m.p. 

278 Maid of Athens 20 

BY T. L. MEADE 

328 How It All Came Round ... 20 

BY OWEN MEREDITH 

331 Lucile 20 

BY JOHN MILTON 

389 Paradise Lost 20 

1092 Poems 35 

BY WILLIAM MINTO 

377 Life of Defoe 10 

BY MRS. MOLESWORTH 

1008 Marrying and Giving in Marriage . .10 

BY SUSANNA MOODIE 

1067 Geoffrey Moncton 30 

1068 Flora Lyndsay 20 

1074 Roughing it in the Bush 20 

1076 Life in the Backwoods 20 

1085 Life in the Clearings 20 

BY THOMAS MOORE 

416 LallaRookh 20 

487 Poems 40 

BY JOHN MORLEY 

407 Life of Burke 10 

BY J. C. MORRISON 

383 Life of Gibbon 10 

BY EDWARD H. MOTT 

139 Pike County Folks 20 

BY ALAN MUIR 

312 Golden Girls 20 

BY LOUISA MUHLBACH 

1000 Frederick the Great and his Court. .30 

1014 The Daughter of an Empress 30 

1054 Goethe and Schiller 30 

1091 Queen Hortense 30 

BY MAX MULLER 
130 India : What Can It Teach Us ? .... 20 
BY MISS MULOCK 

33 John Halifax 20 

435 Miss Tommy 15 

751 King Arthur 20 


BY DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY 


197 By the Gate of the Sea 16 

758 Cynic Fortune 10 

1116 One Traveller Returns ... 20 

BY F. MYERS 

410 Life of Wordsworth 10 

BY FLORENCE NEELY 

564 Hand-Book for the Kitchen 20 

BY REV. R. H. NEWTON 

83 Right and Wrong Uses of the Bible .. 20 

BY JOHN NICHOL 

347 Life of Byron 10 

BY JAMES R. NICHOLS, M.D. 

375 Science at Home 20 

BY W. E. NORRIS 

108 No New Thing 20 

592 That Terrible Man 10 

779 My Friend Jim 10 

BY CHRISTOPHER NORTH 

439 Noctes Ambrosianae 30 

BY F. E. M. NOTLEY 

1095 From the Other Side 20 

BY LAURENCE OLIPHANT 

196 Altiora Peto 20 

BY MRS. OLIPHANT 

124 The Ladies Lindores 20 

179 The Little Pilgrim 10 

175 Sir Tom 20 

326 The Wizard’s Son 26 

368 Old Lady Mary 10 

602 Oliver’s Bride 10 

717 A Country Gentleman 20 

831 The Son of his Father 20 

920 John : a Love Story 20 

925 A Poor Gentleman 20 

994 Lucy Crofton 10 

BY MAX O’RELL 

336 John Bull and His Island 20 

459 John Bull and His Daughters. . .20 

BY OUIDA 

112 Wanda, 2 Parts, each 15 

127 Under Two Flags, 2 Parts, each.... 20 

387 Princess Napraxine 25 

675 A Rainy June 10 

763 Moths 20 

790 Othmar 20 

805 A House Party 10 

852 Friendship 20 

853 In Maremma 20 

854 Signa 20 

855 Pascarel 20 

BY ALBERT K. OWEN 

655 Integral Co-operation 30 

BY LOUISA PARR 

42 Robin 20 

BY MARK PATTISON 

392 Life of Milton 10 

BY JAMES PAYN 

187 Thicker than Water 20 

330 The Canon’s Ward 20 

669 Luck of the Dan-ells 20 


9 


Lovell’s library. 


BY HENRY PETERSON 

1016 Pemberton. 30 

BY F. C. PHILLIPS 

1082 Strange Adventures of Lucy Smith .20 

1083 As in a Looking Glass 2U 

1084 The Dean and his Daughter 20 

1097 Jack and Three Jills 20 

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE 

403 Poems* 20 

426 Narrative of A. Gordon Pym 15 

432 Gold Bug, and Other Tales 15 

438 The Assignation, and Other Tales . . 15 


447 The Murders in the Rue Morgue 15 

BY WILLIAM POLE, F.R.S. 

406 The Theory of the Modern Scien- 


tific Game of Whist 15 

BY ALEXANDER POPE 

391 Homer’s Odyssey 20 

396 Homer’s Iliad 30 

457 Poems... 30 

BY JANE PORTER 

189 Scottish Chiefs, Part I .20 

Scottish Chiefs, Part II 20 

382 Thaddeus of Warsaw 25 

BY C. F. POST AND FRED. C. 
LEUBUCHER 

838 The George-Hewitt Campaign 20 

BY ADELAIDE A. PROCTER 

339 Poems 20 

BY AGNES RAY 

1010 Mrs. Gregory.^ 20 

BY CHARLES READE 

28 Singleheart and Doubleface 10 

415 A Perilous Secret 20 

759 Foul Play 20 

773 Put Yourself in his Place 20 

913 Griffith Gaunt 20 

914 A Terrible Temptation ^ 

915 Very Hard Cash 20 

916 It is Never Too Late to Mend 20 

917 The Knightsbridge Mystery 10 

918 A Woman Hater 20 

919 Readiana 10 

BY REBECCA FERGUS REDD 

16 Freckles 20 

408 The Brierfield Tragedy 20 

BY “ RITA” 

556 Dame Durden 20 

599 Like Dian’s Kiss 20 

BY SIR H. ROBERTS 

101 Harry Holbrooke 20 

BY A. M. F. ROBINSON 

134 Arden 16 

BY REGINA MARIA ROCHE 

411 Children of the Abbey 30 

ROLLIN’ S ANCIENT HISTORY. 

IIOS Volume 1 20 

1111 “ II .'...‘.!..!!'20 

1114 “ III 20 

1117 “ IV 20 

1122 “ V 20 

1125 “ VI ;20 

1128 “ VII 20 

1131 “VIII 20 i 


BY BLANCHE ROOSEVELT 


837 Marked ‘ ‘ In Haste ” 20 

BY DANTE ROSSETTI 

329 Poems 20 

BY JOHN RUSKIN 

497 Sesame and Lilies 10 

505 Crown of Wild Olives 10 

510 Ethics of the Dust 10 

516 Queen of the Air 10 

521 Seven Lamps of Architecture 20 

537 Lectures on Architecture and Paint- 
ing 15 

542 Stones of Venice, 3 Vols., each 25 

565 Modern Painters, Vol. 1 20 

572 “ “ Vol. II 20 

577 “ “ Vol. Ill '....20 

589 » “ Vol. IV 25 

608 “ “ Vol. V 25 

598 King of the Golden River 10 

623 Unto this Last 10 

627 Munera Pulveris 15 

637 “ A Joy Forever ” 15 

639 The Pleasures of England 10 

642 The Two Paths 20 

644 Lectures on Art 15 

647 Aratra Pentelici 15 

650 Time and Tide 15 

665 Mornings in Florence 15 

668 St. Mark’s Rest 15 

670 Deucalion 15 

673 Art of England 15 

676 Eagle’s Nest 15 

679 ‘ Our Fathers Have Told Us ” 15 

682 Proserpina 15 

685 Vald’Arno 15 

688 Love’s Meinie 15 

707 Fors Clavigera, Part I. 30 

708 “ “ Part IT 30 

713 “ “ Part III 30 

714 “ “ Part IV 30 

BY MRS. ROWSON 

159 Charlotte Temple 10 

BY W. CLARK RUSSELL 

123 A Sea Queen 20 

399 John Holds worth .20 

833 A Voyage to the Cape 20 

8.34 Jack’s Courtship 20 

835 A Sailor’s Sweetheart 20 

836 On the Fo’k’sle Head .20 

997 The Golden Hope 20 

1087 The Frozen Pirate 20 

BY DORA RUSSELL 

816 The Broken Seal 20 

BY GEORGE SAND 

135 The Tower of Percemont 20 

965 The Lilies of Florence 20 

BY J. X. B. SAINTINE 

710 Picciola .10 

BY MRS. W. A. SAVILLE 

27 Social Etiquette 15 

BY DR. E. J. SCHELLHOUS 

1094 The New Republic 30 

BY J. C. F. VON SCHILLER 

341 Schiller’s Poems 20 

BY MICHAEL SCOTT 

171 Tom Cringle’s Log, 


10 


20 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY. 


BY SIR WALTER SCOTT 

146 Ivanhoe, 2 Parte, each 16 

359 Lady of the Lake, with Notes 20 

489 Bride of Lammermoor 20 

490 Black Dwarf 10 

492 Castle Dangerous 15 

493 Legend of Montrose 15 

495 The Surgeon’s Daughter 10 

499 Heart of Mid-Lothian 30 

602 Waverley . .20 

604 Fortu nes of Nigel 20 

609 Peveril of the Peak 30 

615 The Pirate 20 

586 Poetical Works 40 

644 Redgauntlet 25 

651 W oodstock 20 

657 Count Robert of Paris 20 

669 The Abbot 20 

675 Quentin Durward 20 

581 The Talisman 20 

686 St. Ronan’s Well 20 

695 Anne of Geierstein 20 

606 Aunt Margaret’s Mirror 1 0 

607 Chronicles of the Canongate 15 

609 The Monastery 20 

620 GuyMannering 20 

625 Kenilworth 25 

629 The Antiquary 20 

632 Rob Roy 20 

635 The Betrothed 20 

638 Fair Maid of Perth 20 

641 Old Mortality 20 

BY EUGENE SCRIBE 

22 Fleurette 20 

BY PRINCIPAL SHAIRP 

334 Life of Burns 10 

BY MARY W. SHELLEY 

5 Franken.stein 10 

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

649 Complete Poetical Works 30 

BY S. SHELLEY 

191 The Nautz Family 20 

BY J. H. SHORTHOUSE 

832 Sir Percival 10 

BY EDITH SIMCOX 

613 Men, Women, and Lovers 20 

BY WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 

640 The Partisan SO 

648 Mellich am pe 30 

653 The Yemassee 30 

657 Katherine Walton 30 

662 Southward Ho ! 30 

671 The Scout 30 

674 The Wigwam and Cabin 30 

677 V asconselos 30 

680 Confession 30 

684 Woodcraft 30 

687 Richard Hurdis 30 

690 Guy Rivers 30 

693 Border Beagles 30 

697 The Forayers 30 

702 Charlemont 30 

703 Eutaw 30 

705 Beauchampe 30 

BY J. P. SIMPSON 

126 Haunted Hearts 10 

BY A. P. SINNETT 

924 Karma 20. 


11 


BY HAWLEY SMART 

780 Bad to Beat 10 

1103 Saddle and Sabie 20 

BY SAMUEL SMILES 

425 Self-Help 26 

BY A. SMITH 

594 A Summer in Skye 20 

BY GOLDWIN SMITH 

110 False Hopes . . .15 

424 Life of Cowper 10 

BY J. GREGORY SMITH 

65 Selma 15 

BY S. M. SMUCKER 

248 Life of Webster, 2 Parts, each 15 

BY F. SPIELHAGEN 

449 Quisiana 20 

BY STARKWEATHER AND 
WILSON 

461 Socialism 10 

BY LESLIE STEPHEN 

396 Life of Pope 10 

401 Life of J ohnson 10 

BY STEPNIAK 

173 Underground Russia 20 

BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON i 

767 Kidnapped 20 

768 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. 

Hyde 10 

769 Prince Otto 10 

770 The Dynamiter 20 

793 New Arabian Nights 20 

819 Treasure Island 20 

921 The Merry Men 20 

1102 The Misadventures of John Nich- 
olson . . 10 

BY HESBA STRETTON 

729 In Prison and Out 20 

BY JULIAN STURGIS 

1062 Dick’s Wandering 20 

BY EUGENE SUE 


772 Mysteries of Paris, 2 Parts, each . . .20 
776 The Wandering Jew, 2 Parts, each .20 


BY DEAN SWIFT 

68 GirlliveP s Travel s 20 

BY CHAS. ALGERNON SWIN- 
BURNE 

412 Poems 20 

BY J. A. SYMONDS 

361 Life of Shelley 10 

BY H. A. TAINE 

442 Taine’s English Literature 40 

BY NIKOLAI V. TCHERNUISH- 
COSKY 

1017 A Vital Question 30 

BY LORD TENNYSON 

446 Poems 40 

BY JUDGE D. P. THOMPSON 

21 The Green Mountain Boys 20 

BY THEODORE TILTON 

94 Tempest Tossed, Part 1 20 

94 Tempest Tossed, Part II 20 


LOVELL S LIBRAKY 


BY W. M. THACKEEAY 

141 Henry Esmond 20 

1 43 Denis D aval ,20 

148 Catherine ..10 

150 Lovel, the Widower 10 

164 Barry Lyndon 20 

172 Vanity Fair 30 

193 History of Pendennis, 2 Parts, each.. 20 

211 The Newcomes, 2 Parts, each 20 

220 Book of Snobs 10 

229 Paris Sketches 20 

235 Adventures of Philip, 2 Parts, each ..15 

238 The Virginians, 2 Parts, each 20 

252 Critical Reviews, etc 10 

256 Eastern Sketches 10 

262 Fatal Boots, etc 10 

264 The Four Georges 10 

280 Fitzboodle Papers, etc 10 

283 Roundabout Papers 20 

285 A Legend of the Rhine, etc 10 

286 Cox’s Diary, etc 10 

292 Irish Sketches, etc 20 

296 Men’s Wives 10 

300 Novels by Eminent Hands 10 

303 Character Sketches, etc 10 

304 Christmas Books 20 

3fj6 Ballads 15 

307 Yellowplush Papers 10 

309 Sketches and Travels in London 10 

313 English Humorists 15 

316 Great Hoggarty Diamond 10 

320 The Rose and the Ring 10 

BY COUNT LYOE TOLSTOI 

1110 My Husband and 1 10 

1113 Polikouchka 10 

1124 Two Generations 10 

BY ANTHONY TEOLLOPE 

133 Mr. Scarborough’s Family, 2 Parts, 

each 15 

251 Autobiography of Anthony Trollope. 20 

344 Life of Thackeray 10 

867 An Old Man’s Love 16 

BY F. A. TUPPEE 

895 Moonshine 20 

BY J. VAN LENNEP 

468 The Count of Talavera 20 

BY JULES VEENE 

34 800 Leagues on the Amazon 10 

35 The Cryptogram 10 

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STONEHEART 


Romance 


BY 

GUSTAVE AIMARD 

» I 

AUTHOR OF “ THE BEE-HUNTER,” ** MISSOURI OUTLAWS,” ETC., ETC. 


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CONTENTS. 


I. SYMPATHY • • • • 

II. THE VIRGIN FOREST « • 

III. DON TORRIBIO QUIROGA • 

IV. LA TERTULIA (THE PARTY) • 

V. THE AMBUSH . . • 

VI. SAN-LUCAR . . • • 

VII. THE ATTACK ON THE PRESIDIO 

VIII. DISGRACE . • • • 

IX. THE PRISONER , . • 

X. THE CAMP OF THE RED-SKINsJ 

XI. THE RENEGADE • • • 

XII. woman’s will . , p 

XIII. PALE-FACE V, RED-SKIN • 

XIV. THE CATASTROPHE * • 

XV. ONE MONTHj LATER 

XVI. PREPARATIONS FOR THE CHASE 

XVII. THE CHASE • • • • 

JtVIII. EL VOLADERO DE LAS ANIMAS 
Kir. VH£ HAND OF GOD • • 


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STONEHEART. 


♦ 


CHAPTER IL 

SYMPATHY, 

Don Estevan and Stoneheart had become acquainted under circumstances which 
might have induced enmity between them. The singular reputation of the Bee- 
hunter was ample reason why the young and straightforward mayor domo of Don 
Pedro di Luna should feel himself repelled ; and yet a diametrically opposite effect 
was produced without the two young men knowing why, and they suddenly felt 
themselves friends. 

They had never seen each other before their encounter in the road to San-Lucar, 
syid yet they seemed to have known each other for ages. « 

Singular to say, the same effect was produced on both at the same moment. 

What we have asserted is so true, that Don Estevan, notwithstanding the 
innate prudence of his character, had not hesitated to confide to Stoneheart, on 
the spur of the moment, the history of his master, or, to speak more correctly, his 
benefactor. 

The course of this tale will furnish us with still stronger proofs of the singular 
confidence these two men had instantly felt for each other. 

The sun was setting in a flood of purple and gold behind the snowy crests of 
the lofty mountains of the Sierra Madre. 

“And now,” resumed Don Estevan, “ having acquired an intimate knowledge 
of the secrets of the family with whom chance has brought you into contact, wliat 
do you intend to do ? ” 

“First, and before all, a single word,” answered Stoneheart. 

“ Say on ; you must indeed have many things to confide to me in your turn.” 

“ Not so many as you think. You already know as much of my life as I do 
myself. But that is not the question between us at present.” 

“ What can it be, then ? ” said Don Estevan. 

“lam about to tell you. Surely you have not told me this long and interesting 
tale udth the sole purpose of satisfying a curiosity I never exhibited ; there must 
be some other motive. Don Estevan Diaz, two bold men, bound to each other as 
closely as the ivy and the oak, with thoughts running in the same channel, with 
but one will between them, — two »ttch men are mighty. Are you of the same wa/ 
of thinking ? ” 

yost surely, Don Fernando ; I am entirely of the same opinion." 


B 



2 


Stoneheart, 


“ Good ! ” said the Bee-hunter, stretching out his arm ; here is my hand, 
Don Estevan ; it belongs to a man who, with his hand, offers you a loyal and 
honest heart, whatever may be said to the contrary : will you accept it ? ” 

“ Vive DiosV^ eagerly exclaimed the mayor domo, heartily pressing in his own the 
hand so frankly tendered ; “I accept both one and the other. Thanks, brother ! ” 

“Ah !•” said Don Fernando, with a sigh of pleasure, “at last I have a friend. 
I shall no longer wander through life alone : I shall have one in whom I can confide.” 

“You shall have more than one to sympathize with you, brother; you shall 
have a mother too. Mine shall be yours also. Come, let us mount ; it grows late.” 

“ Let us go,” was all the hunter answered. 

The horses had not strayed from the neighbourhood of the rancho, near which 
they found abundant pasturage ; the men easily lassoed them, and five minutes 
later the friends rode side by side in the direction of Don Estevan’s dwelling. 

Na Manuela was awaiting them at the entrance. She was smiling. 

“ Make haste ! ” she cried, as soon as she perceived them ; “ it is supper- time.” 

“ And we, mother, are dying with hunger,” replied her son, dismounting ; “so if 
you have not prepared an amnle meal, you run great risk of leaving our appetites 
unappcased.” 

“No fear of that. I thought you would come back hungry, so I took my 
precautions.” 

“Can you forgive me, madam,” said the Bee-hunter, “ for making this fresh 
inroad on your hospitality ? ” 

“I am so ready to forgive you, sen or,” said the mistress of the house, “that, 
feeling convinced we should have you a long time with us, I have myself arranged 
your quarters.” 

“ Senora,” said Don Fernando, much affected, “ I know not how to thank you j 
you have guessed the dearest wish of my heart. Your son calls me brother : would 
you deign to permit me to call you mother?” 

!^a Manuela fixed upon him a long and steadfast gaze : her face exhibited 
tokens of vivid emotion ; two tears coursed slowly down her pallid cheeks. 

“Be it so ! ” she said. Instead of one, I have now two children. Come, my 
sons, supper waits.” 

“ My name is Fernando, mother.” 

“ I will not forget it,” was her smiling answer. 

They entered the dwelling, while some peones led away the horses to the corral. 

Don E*stevan had not deceived his friend ; he had in truth given him a mother. 

The meal proceeded with the cheerfulness to be expected from three persons 
who, although strangers three days before, had suddenly understood and appreciated 
each other ; that is to say, it w^as gay and cordial. 

As soon as the peones had retired, and their masters found themselves alone, 
they left the table, and betook themselves to an inner room, where, sheltered from 
prying eyes and ears, they fan no risk of having their conversation overheard. 

“ Shut the door,” said Don Estevan to Don Fernando, who was the last to enter. 

“ No,” replied the latter ^ “ we will leave it open ; by this js tans we shall both 
see and hear any one who may come near. As a general rule, never close the door 
when you have secrets to tell ” 

Don Estevan drew forward some seats, sat down, lit his cigarette, and, turning 
to the hunter, said : 

“ Now for our talk.” 

There are certain situations in life where the most insignificant word becomes of 
the greatest importance. So, when Don Estevan said, “ Now for our talk ! ” each 
^ the three felt that the conversation to ensue would not be confined to the limit* 

pleasant chat 

of 


Sympathy, 


3 


It was Don Fernando who first commenced the conversation in his uswal decided 
manner. 

“My friend, I have pondered deeply on what you told me to-day: you 
would never have entrusted such an important secret to me, if grave reasons had 
not induced you. I think I have divined them : you,dread evil to Doha Hermosa. 
Are these your motives, or am I mistaken ? ” 

“You are not. In fact, I have for some time past been oppressed by a vague 
fear, a secret apprehension : I feel, as it were, the approach of some misfortune. 
Doubtless you know, better than I can tell you, that in all men’s lives certain dark 
hours occur, in which the brave man trembles without apparent cause, like a child 
afraid of its own shadow. All things alarm, all things excite suspicion. Well, 
my friend, for the last two months I have had these dark hours : an invincible sad- 
ness overpowers me. In a word, I am living in fear, without knowing why ; for 
all around me takes its usual course : Don Pedro is as calm, Doha Hermosa as 
gay, as lively, and as free from care as ever. What have we, then, to fear ? Who 
is the enemy that lies in wait for us, and whose savage eye watches us night and 
day ? I know not ; but, I repeat, I feel him. 

“You know your enemy now, as well as I do. It is the Tigercat.” 

“ True ; but, nevertheless, my mind refuses to admit that this man can really K 
our enemy. As there can be no effect without a cause, so there can be no haf 
without a reason. Since Don Pedro’s arrival in this country, he has never com 
in contact with this man at home or abroad, for good or for evil. Why, thei 
should he wish ill to my master ? ” 

“Why! why !” repeated the hunter, with feverish impatience. “Why does 
day follow night? why are there good and bad men? why rascals and honest 
people ? The inquiry would lead you too far, my good friend. I know as well 
as you that none of you have ever come in contact with the Tigercat. This man 
is a gloomy miscreant, the greater portion of whose life is spent in doing evil for 
evil’s sake. Don Pedro is loved and honoured by all who know him ; Doha 
HermoSa is respected even by the Apaches — the most ferocious red-skins of the 
prairie ; hence, most likely, the hatred he bears to the family of the hac'undero. 
In such a man’s eyes, no one has the right to be good and honest with im- 
punity; it is an obvious necessity that all loyal hearts should be his natural 
enemies. Here lies the sole cause of Tigercat’s hatred of Don Pedro ; seek no 
further reason.” 

“Yes; you are right,” answered Don Estevan, uneasily; “it must be as 
you say.” 

“Of course it is! Trust in me, who have known the monster so long. But 
enough of this : what do you intend to do now ? ” 

“I confess I find myself greatly embarrassed, and know not howto extricate 
myself from the dilemma, how to upset plans the aim of which is beyond my ken. 
There lies the difficulty.” 

“ I think it would be wise to leave the family in ignorance of our suspicions,” 
■aid Manuela. 

“Say rather our conviction, senora,” replied Don Fernando. “But in this 
matter I am quite of your opinion : it will be easy for us to guard Don Pedro and 
his daughter so secretly that they shall not dream of the danger which threatens 
them.” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” exclaimed Don Estevan, excitedly ; “it is most important that they 
should entertain no suspicion, particularly Doha Hermosa. Poor child, if oui 
fears prove true, she will learn to know misfortune too soon. Come, Fernando^ 
counsel us.” 

I will do all a man can do to save those you love.” 


4 


Stoneheart, 


‘^“Thanks. But why not say those w^hom you love yourself? You have already 
rendered them an inestimable service.” 

“Alas, my friend ! ” said the hunter, with a sigh, “ what am I that I should 
lift my thoughts so high ? I am nothing ; and can only play the part of the honest 
watch-dog, who saves his master and dies at his feet.” 

“Do not speak thus, brother,” exclaimed the mayor domo ; “you do not know 
Doha Hermosa as we do : a more upright heart, a purer or nobler soul, does not 
exist : she loves you.” 

“ Ah,” said Don Fernando, with emotion, “do not utter the word. It is im* 
possible.” 

“ Doha Hermosa is a woman, my good friend ; you saved her life. I do not 
positively know the nature of her sentiments towards you, but I am convinced of 
her gratitude to you ; and in a young girl gratitude soon merges into love.” 

“ Silence, Estevan ! ” cried the old lady, interruptiug him ; “ such words must 
not be used when speaking of your master’s daughter. ” 

“ Very true, mother : forgive me ; I was wrong. But had you heard Doha 
Hermosa speaking of our friend as I did, and exacting from me a promise to search 
for and bring him to her — vive Dios! you would not know what to think !” 

“ Perhaps so ; but, at all events, I should have prudently locked up my thoughts 
at the bottom of my heart.” 

“ Do not think me so mad, sehora,” exclaimed Don Fernando, “as to attach 
more importance than they deserve to your son’s words. I know too well what I 
am — I have too complete a conviction of my inferiority— to dare to raise my 
venturous eyes to one of the angels.” 

“Well said, Don Fernando,” broke in Na Manuela ; “but let us drop the 
subject, and occupy ourselves in finding the means of escape from the dilemma we 
are in.” 

“ I think,” replied the hunter, with some hesitation, “I think I can show you 
the means, if you cannot contrive something better. ” 

Mother and son eagerly drew their buiaccas nearer to him, in order to listen 
more attentively. 

“ Speak, brother, speak,” cried Don Estevan ; “let us have no further delay.” 

“You must excuse me,” resumed Don Fernando, “if the plan I am about to 
submit to you should not be exactly compatible with the strict laws of honour as 
they are understood in the civilized world ; but the man with whom we are about 
to enter into mortal strife is more than half an Indian ; and the war he intends to 
wage with you wdll be a war full of treachery and ambuscades ; in order to meet 
him with advantage, we too, whatever repugnance we may feel, must employ the 
same measures — must turn his own weapons against himself ; must repel treachery 
by treachery, and knavery by knavery.” 

“What you say, Fernando,” replied the mayor domo ^ “is unfortunately but tor 
true. The proverb is right, ‘ Cap a knave with a knave.’ I perfectly understand-, 
the bearing and the justice of your reasoning, yet I confess that it is hard for an 
honest man, accustomed to look his enemies in the face, to be forced to wrap him- 
self in a fox’s hide. ” 

“But what can we do? This is one of the sad necessities of our position. If 
we do not act in this wise, we may as well submit to our foe.” 

“ Let it be as you wish, since there is no other method ; but now for your plan.’* 

“Notwithstanding the disagreement between myself and the Tigercat, he ha? 
allowed me to dive too deeply into his confidence for him to exhibit an y rancoui 
against me, whatever anger he may feel. Accustomed for a number of years to 
mould me to his will, and rule over me as he pleased, he thinks he knows iny 
character thoroughly, and is persuaded that ray dispute with him was only an out* 


Symipaihy, 


5 


break of temper. Finally, like all men who have through long years cherished a 
chimera, the Tigercat— who, 1 am convinced, has only fostered me and suffered 
me in his presence for the sake of making me useful in one of his infernal plots — 
will allow himself, shrewd as he is, to be overreached by me.” 

“All this sounds plausible enough,” observed Don Estevan. 

“ I think it does. Well, then, at daybreak to-morrow you and I will leave for 
the presidio^ where I will put you into communication with a certain rogue of my 
acquaintance, who is much devoted to me. This picaro will serve you as an 
agent: through him we shall learn all the Tigercat is doing at San-Lucar with the 
leperos he is enrolling for some sinister purpose. We will then part ; you to return 
quietly to this place ; I to rejoin the Tigercat in the prairies. This is my project ; 
W’hat do you think of it ? ” 

“ It is capital, Fernando ; you have thought of everything.” 

** But remember three things : first of all, whatever I may do or say, whatever 
measures you may see me try, do not take offence ; leave me complete master of 
iny actions, and never for a moment suspect that I intend to betray you.” 

“ Have no uneasiness on that score ; my confidence n you shall be illimitable. 
And now for your next remark.” 

“ Vou will instantly comprehend its importance. As soon as we have left the 
presidio we must be as strangeis.” 

“It is indeed an important piece of advice, and I will take care to follow it.” 

“Lastly, be ready to act at the first signal, be it by night or day. Never mind 
what you may be doing ; leave everything.” 

“ Good. After to-morrow, on the pretence of having certain urgent work to 
be carried out at the hacienda^ I will quietly enlist a score of leperos — hare-brained 
fellows — who for gold will obey me blindly and recoil before no danger.” 

“The very thing! You can easily employ them here doing nothing till the 
time comes.” 

“ I wdll be answerable that no one shall make a single inquiry respecting them. 
But what sort of token will you send me?” 

“ The token will be a wdiite eagle’s plume broken into three, with the quill 
painted red. He who brings the jDlume wall say, ‘ My two piastres. ’ You wall 
give them to him without remark, and send him aw'ay.” 

“ But who is the man, Fernando? ” 

“ He wall be a stranger ; most likely Ike first man I happen to meet. It is 
requisite that the messenger should not suspect the importance of the message he 
conveys.” 

“ Well reasoned ! Come, come, I think we shall get through this business 
successfully.” 

“As for me, I am sure of it,” exclaimed Don Fernando, “if you will only 
follow my instructions.” 

“ Do not be anxious on that score, brother ; I will answer for nqy accuracy.” 

Everything having been thus arranged and decided on by our three personages 
they separated and retired to rest, for it was already late. 


CHAPTER n. 

THE VIRGIN FOREST. 

Don Torribio Quiroga, with whom we have now to do, was a young man of 
twenty-eight, with a refined countenance, an elegant figure, and possessing in the 
highest degree the manners of society. 

He belonged to one of the richest and most considerable families in the province 
of Chihua-hua : the death of his parents had put him in possession of an income 
of more than five hundred thousand piastres, or about ninety thousand pounds 
sterling. 

Don Torribio had succeeded in all his undertakings, with one exception ; his 
struggle against Don Fernando, — a struggle in which ihe latter had always come 
off victorious. 

Thus the hatred the rich man felt for the Bee-hunter, and which was originally 
based upon puerile motives, had insensibly increased with each successive morti- 
fication, and ended at last by assuming the alarming proportions of real Mexican 
hate. 

After the meeting with Don Fernando Carril, which resulted so unfavourably 
for him, Don Torribio Quiroga remained a prey to that cold and concentrated rage 
which slowly eats into the soul. 

As soon as he lost sight of his lucky adversary, he had started at full speed. 
His spurs mangled the flanks of his luckless horse, who snorted with pain, and 
•redoubled his furious pace. 

He saw nothing, heard nothing. Revolving sinister projects in his brain, he 
crossed torrents and ravines without checking his horse’s career. 

Hatred vvas crying aloud in his heart ; nothing cooled his burning forehead ; 
his temples beat as if they would burst, and nervous agitation shook him in every 
’^mb. 

This state of excitement lasted many hours. His steed still flew on. At last 
the noble animal, worn out with fatigue, suddenly dropped upon the sand. 

Don Torribio rose, and looked around him with a bewildered air. 

A shock like this rude fall was necessary to restore order to his ideas, and recall 
him to reality. Another hour of such continued anguish would have made him 
raving maa. 

It was night. Thick darkness covered the earth ; a mournful silence reigned 
over the wilderness. 

** Where am I ? ” he exclaimed, endeavouring to make out his position. 


Tke Virgin Forest. 


7 


But the moon, hidden by clouds, gave forth no ray; the wind began to roar like 
thunder; the branches of the trees crashed against each other, and, from the 
depths of the wilderness, the growlings of the larger wild beasts began to mingle 
their deep notes with the sharper howling of the wild cats. 

Don Torribio strained his eyes in vain efforts to penet«ate the darkness. At 
last he approached his horse, which was stretched on the ground, and drawing its 
breath with difficulty. Moved with pity for the faithful companion of so many 
adventures, he stooped down, removed his pistols from the holsters to his belt, 
and taking from the saddle, where it was slung, a gourd filled with rum, began to 
wash the eyes, nostrils, and mouth of the panting animal. Half an hour’s patience 
seemed to restore life to the horse. He got on his legs, and, with his native 
instinct, soon discovered a neighbouring rill, at which he slaked his thirst. 

“All is not yet lost,” muttered Don Torribio; “after all, I may make my 
escape hence.” 

But a deep roar resounded at a short distance, repeated immediately in four 
directions. 

The horse trembled; and Don Torribio felt a cold shudder run through his 
veins. 

“ Curse light on me !” he exclaimed; “ I have stumbled upon a drinking-place 
for panthers ! ” 

He stooped, and found the confirmation of his fears in the footprints stamped 
in the mud. 

Just at this moment he saw, at ten paces from him, two eyes, glimmering like 
burning coals, fixed upon him with strange intensity. 

Don Torribio was a man of well-tried courage. Many a time, before the eyes 
of his comrades, he had performed deeds of wonderful temerity ; but now, alone 
in the darkness, and surrounded by savage animals, he felt himself overcome by 
deadly terror. 

But this fit of terror did not last above a minute. By a violent effort of his 
will, he calmed himself, and, calling all his energy to his aid, prepared for a 
desperate struggle, in which he knew he must succumb; yet, preserving that 
instinct of self-preseivation and hope which is seldom extinguished in man, he 
determined to defend his life to the last. 

His horse, with a snort of horrible fear, bounded away, and made his escape on 
to the plain. 

“So much the better,” muttered Don Torribio; “perhaps the poor brute’s 
speed may save him.” 

A frightful concert of yells and howling broke out of the forest at the flight of 
the horse, and mighty shadows bounded past Don Torribio. 

He smiled bitterly. 

“Aha!” said he, “shall I stand here to be devoured, without attempting to 
escape ? Vive Dios ! it would be the act of a fool ! ” 

A violent gust of wind here cleared the heaven of clouds, and for some minutes 
the wan light of the moon lit up the wild spot. 

A few paces off, the Rio del Norte ran between two steep banks; on all sides, 
and far away in the distance, the dense masses of the virgin forest extended them- 
selves. A chaos of rocks piled on each other in inextricable confusion, from 
whose fissures rose clumps of trees overgrown with entangled creepers drooping 
in fantastic garlands, pushed its ramifications to the verge of the river. 

Don Torribio now knew he was at least fifteen leagues from the nearest inhabited 
spot. He was entangled in the first spurs of an immense forest — the only one 
throughout the country of the Apaches which the hardy pioneers of civilization 
had not yet dared to explore. 


Stoneheari, 


t 


Don Torribio took no pains to inquire how his headlong course had brought 
him to this dreaded region. Danger so frightful that it claimed the exertion of aD 
his powers hung too directly over his head for him to waste time. 

At this side, the limpid stream we have mentioned issued from a rock ; its banks, 
impressed with numberless footprints of wild beasts, clearly indicating that the 
spot was a favourite drinking place, when, at sunset, they left their lairs to seek 
food and quench their thirst. And as a further living proof of the fact, two mag- 
nificent jaguars, male and female, had at that very moment stopped near it, and 
were watching the gambols of their young. 

‘‘ So,” said Don Torribio to himself, “ pleasant neighbours ” ; and he cast his 
eyes on the other side. 

An immense panther, couched on a rock in the attitude of a cat on the watch, 
Iiad fixed on him two eyeballs glowing like carbuncles. 

Don Torribio never went out without his weapons. His carbine was of remark- 
able accuracy, and, by a providential chance, had not been broken when he fell 
with his horse. He had placed it as he rose against a rock beside him ; he 
stretched out his arm, and seized it. 

“ Good ! ” said he, with a grim smile ; “ the struggle will cost them dear, at all 
events.” 

He shouldered the weapon ; but at the moment he was about to fire, a plaintive 
caterwauling causing him to raise his eyes, he saw a dozen of catamounts and tiger- 
cats of immense size perched in the branches above him, while a number of wolves 
crept stealthily up and dropped down in the bushes behind. Poised on the sum- 
mits of the surrounding rocks, a number of vultures, bald buzzards, and urubus^ 
with half-closed eyes, seemed to be waiting to seize their share of the quarry. 

With one bound, Don Torribio threw himself on to an angle of the rock, and 
from thence, by aid of his hands and knees, he contrived, in the course of a minute 
or two, to drag himself with enormous difficulty to a kind of terrace, about twenty 
feet above the ground. 

The horrible concert performed by the denizens of the forest, attracted one after 
another by the keenness of their scent, increased in volume with every minute, and 
had now reached such a pitch, that it drowned the roar of the wind. 

The moon had disappeared behind the clouds, and Don Torribio was once more 
enveloped in darkness. But, if he could no longer distinguish the wild beasts, he 
knew they were there : he smelt them ; he saw their eyes flashing through the 
obscurity ; and their yells, nearing him more and more, made him feel that the 
last spark of hope would soon be extinguished. 

Firmly planting his feet on the ground and leaning a little forward to secure his 
aim, he drew a revolver, and fired six shots in rapid succession at the tiger-cats. 
Six howls of agony immediately followed. 

Nothing more horrible can be conceived than the uproar caused by this on- 
slaught. The wolves threw themselves on the victims, which they began 
eagerly to devour, disputing their booty with the vultures, who claimed their 
share. 

Suddenly there was a strange rustling among the leases and branches of the | 
trees. A body, of undistinguishable shape, shot through the air, and alighted 
growling on the platform. Don Torribio, clutching his rifle, dealt the animal a 
terrific blow with the butt on the skull, and the brute rolled howling from the top 
of the rock to the bottom. 

And now his ears were stunned by the uproar arising from a dreadful combat, a 
few feet below him, between the jaguars and tiger-cats on one side and the 
panther which liad attacked them. Fascinated by the terrible danger to which he 
was exposed, Don Torribio, forgetful of the evil consequences to him that might 


The Virgin Forest. 


9 


ensue, fired two pistol-shots into the mass of foes tearing and rushing at each 
other’s throats at his feet. 

Thereupon a strange thing occurred. Suddenly ceasing from the terrible combat 
in which they were engaged, and abandoning, with one accord, the bloody and 
half-devoured bodies of the victims, they all turned their rage in the direction of 
the rock on which Don Torribio seemed to set them at defiance, and attacked it 
in conc^ert with terrific energy — leaping upon its excrescences, striving to hold on 
to them, and trying to escalade it on ^1 sides. 

The situation grew more and more critical. Several tiger-cats had already 
bounded on to the platform. As fast as Don Torribio knocked them over, others 
took their place. The number of his enemies increased every minute. 

This strife of one man against a host of ferocious brutes had something grand 
and striking about it. Don Torribio, like one with the nightmare, strove in vain 
to beat back the constantly renewed crowds of his assailants ; he felt close to nim 
the hot and fetid breath of the tiger-cats and panthers ; the roaring of the jaguars, 
and mocking moans of the panthers, poured into his ears a frightful song, that 
deafened and made him giddy ; the eyes of thousands of his invisible foes flashed 
through the obscurity, and fascinated his own gaze ; and sometimes the heavy 
wing of the vulture or zopilote brushed his cheek, from which the cold sweat 
exuded. 

Talons had already torn his flesh ; several pajetos (catamounts), rushing upon 
him, had fastened on his throat, and he had been obliged to seize t hem bodily to 
force them to quit their hold. His blood was streaming from twenty wounds, and 
the moment was close at hand when the energy which alone sustained him would 
be worn out. 

At this solemn moment, when strength and courage were alike failing, a last cry 
issued from his breast — a cry of agony, a cry of horrible expression, which was 
repeated far and wide by the echoes : the last, the final protest of a bold man. 

Wonderful to relate, a cry answered his own ! 

Don Torribio, astonished, and not daring to believe that a miracle was to take 
place in a wilderness where none before himself had dared to penetrate, fancied 
his ears had deceived him ; yet, confessing to himself how little strength was still 
left him, and feeling hope faintly reviving in his soul, he uttered a second cry, 
more poignant, more help-seeking than the former. 

As soon as the echoes of the forest were silent after their repetition of the cry, 
a single word, weak as a sigh, was borne to his listening ears on the wings of the 
breeze s “ Hope ! ” 

Don Torribio recovered himself. Electrified by the word, he seemed to regain 
new life and strength. 

Suddenly the gallop of many horses was heard in the distance, several dis- 
charges of fire-arms illumined the darkness with their transient splendour, and 
several men rushed into the thickest crowd of wild beasts. 

At this moment, Don Torribio, attacked by two tiger-cats, rolled upon the plat- 
form struggling with both. 

In a very short time the brutes were put to flight by the new-comers, who 
hastened to light fires to keep them at bay. 

Two of the men, armed with burning torches, set themselves to search for the 
man whose cries of distress had brought them to his aid. 

They were not long in finding him stretched out on the platform, surrounded 
by ten or twelve dead tiger-cats, and clutching in his stiffened hands the throat of 
a strangled pajero. 

“ Well, Carlocho,” exclaimed a voice, “ have you found him 
“ Yes,” replied the other ; “ but he seems dead.” 


lO 


Stonehearf, 


** Cai'ail ” resumed Pablito ; “ it would be a pity ; for he was a bold fellow* 
Where is he ? 

** There ; on the rock opposite you.” 

Can you let him down ? ” 

“ Nothing easier ; he is as still as a log.” 

“Make haste then, in the name of Heaven ! ” said Pablito ; “every minute’s 
delay may be a year’s life stolen from him ! ” 

Carlocho and the verado lifted Don Torribio by the feet and shoulders and, 
with infinite precaution, carried him from the improvised fortress he had defended 
so bravely to one of the fires, and laid him on a bed of leaves prepared by El 
Zapote. 

“ Canartos cried Pablito, at sight of the miserable man ; “poor devil ! how 
they have mauled him ! it was high time for help.” 

“ Do you think he will recover ? ” asked Carlocho. 

“ There is always hope,” said Pablito, dogmatically, “when the vital organs 
are uninjured.” 

He bent over the body, unsheathed his poinard, and put the blade to his lips. 

“ Not a sign of breath ! ” and he shook his head. 

“ Are his wounds serious ? ” asked the verado. 

*‘I think not ; he has fainted from fatigue and over-excitement,” 

“ But in that case he may come round again ? ” 

“ Perhaps he may ; perhaps he may not.” . 

“Ha ! ” exclaimed the verado^ joyfully ; “ look here ! he has tried to open his 
eyes!” 

“ Then he is saved ! ” replied Pablito ; “ he will soon come to his senses. This 
man has a constitution of iron. He will be able to be in the saddle in a quarter 
of an hour, if he likes ; but we must attend to his wounds. ” 

Pablito, aided by Carlocho and the verado ^ bathed the wounds of Don Torribio, 
first with water, then with rum, and blew tobacco-smoke into his nostrils. 

The latter, after some minutes of this strange treatment, uttered a scarcely per- 
ceptible sigh, and moved his lips slightly. 

“ He is saved ! ” repeated Pablito ; “now let us leave nature to work.” 

Don Torribio raised himself up, supporting himself on one elbow, and passed 
his hand across his forehead, as if to recall his thoughts. 

“ Who are you ? ” he said, in a feeble tone. 

“ Friends, selior ; fear nothing.” 

•* I am killed ; my limbs are all broken. ” 

“ It is nothing to signify, senor ; it is only fatigue ; you are as well as we are.” 

Don Torribio sat up and looked attentively at the men who surrounded him.” 

“ I must be mistaken,” said he ; “1 never expected to find you here. By what 
miracle did you reach me in time to save me ? ” 

“ It was your horse performed the miracle, senor,” said the verado. 

“ How is that ? ” asked Don Torribio, whose voice grew stronger every moment. 

“ The case is very simple. We were skirting the forest, on our road to the 
place you had pointed out to us, when suddenly a horse passed across us at a giddy 
speed, a pack of wolves at his heels. We soon relieved him from his incarnate 
foes. Then we set out in search of his rider. Your cry was our pilot.” 

“Thanks ! ” replied Don Torribio ; “ I shall know how to repay the debt I 
have contracted.” 

“ Nonsense ! That is not worth speaking of. Come ! here is your horse; we 
can go as soon as you like. ” 

“Stay here,” said Don Torribio; “ we shall find no more suitable place thao 
this to discuss what we have got to say to each other*” 


CHAPTER Iir. 


DON TORRIBIO QUIROGA. 

There was a long silence after these words of Don Torribio. The vaqturos^ with 
their eyes fixed on him, endeavoured to guess his thoughts from the play of his 
features. At last, after casting a glance of suspicion around, more from habit than 
from any fear of being overheard, he rolled a cigarette, lit it with the greatest cool- 
ness, and began to speak. 

“ My good verado^ I am truly sorry that you have taken these honourable 
Caballeros from their vocations, and put yourself to inconvenience, in order to repair 
to the place I had appointed.” 

Why so, sehor ? ” asked the verado, 

** For a very simple reason, seiior, — because the motives no longer exist which 
Induced me to wish to confer with you.” 

“ What ! ” ciied all the rogues together ; “ can that be possible ? ” 

Oh, yes ! ” he replied coolly ; ** all things considered, Don Fernando Carril is 
^ caballerod^ 

Diablo! not quite so charming!” observed the verado; “the fellow who ordered 
Carlocho to kill me quietly ! ” 

“It was not to me, dear friend,” said Carlocho, with great suavity, “but to 
Don Pablito here, that Sehor Don Fernando gave the order.” 

“You are right ; I made a mistake.” 

After this exchange of courtesy, the two bandits again grew silent. 

“ An honest n^an sticks to his word,” said Tonillo ; “ and if Don Torribio has 
changed his mind, we have nothing more to say. That reminds me,” he added, 
with a smothered sigh, “ that I must refund to you two hundred piastres.” 

“Keep the trifle, dear sehor,” said Don 'Torribio ; “the money cannot be in 
better hands,” 

The vaquero^ who had pulled the coins from his pocket with evident reluctance, 
thrust them back again with celerity. 

“ It is all the same,” said he ; “ I do not consider myself quits with you, sehor. 
I am an honest man, and you may rely upon me. ” 

“ On us all ! ” exclaimed the others in one voice. 

“ I thank you for your devotion, sehores. Unfortunately, as I say once more^ 
h is of no use to me. ” 

“It is unfortunate,” said the verado ; one does not find such patrons as yotl 
every day, sehor.” 


£2 


Sioneheart. 


** Pooh ! said he gaily ; “ now you are free, what prevents your placing your- 
selves under the orders of Don Fernando ? He is very generous ; I am sure he 
will pay you well.” 

“I suppose it will have to be so, sehor,” said Pablito ; “moreover, we can now 
confess that we have already been thinking of it, and — ” 

“ Have already taken service with him,” said Don Torribio carelessly. “ I was 
aware of it ” 

“You know it ? ” cried the bandits. 

“ And are not vexed at it ?” continued Pablito. 

“ On the contrary, I am delighted. It is a strange chance ; but perhaps you 
will be even better able to serve me by the change, if you really are devoted to 
me ? ” 

“To the last drop of our blood 1 ” shouted the vaqueros in touching unison. 

“ You do not despise money ?” 

“Money can never hurt those w^ho have none,” replied the sententious Pablito. 
“When it is earned honourably,” added 'i'onillo. 

“ I agree with you,” said Don Torribio ; “ particularly when it is a question oi 
a hundred ounces ” (about three hundred and forty pounds). 

The bandits trembled with joy, and their wild eyes sparkled. 

“ Carat ! ” they muttered. 

“So that would suit you, I suppose ?” 

“ Rayo di Dios I a hundred ounces ! I should think so,” said PabiitCt 
“ There may be more,” observed Don Torribio. 

“ But doubtless it will be a difficult job,” the verado veniuitd to sav, 

“ Dame ! you know, things are going wrong at present. ” 

“No need to tell us that, sehor ; the misery is frightful.” 

“ Perhaps there may be a man to kill? ” 

“ That might happen ! ” roundly replied Don Torribio. 

“So much the worse for him,” muttered Pablito. 

“Then the offer is agreeable to you, even in that case ? ” 

“More so than ever,” growled Tonillo. 

“Since that is your opinion, caballeros, listen attentively,” said Don TorribiOj 
drawing himself up. “I have pledged my honour,” he began, “to make nO 
attempts against Don Fernando Carril, either directly or indirectly.” 

“ Am honest man sticks to his word,” said Tonillo. 

“And I intend to keep mine scrupulously.” 

The vaqueros made signs of approbation. 

“ But,” continued the speaker, “you know as well as I do that Don Fernando 
is a man made of mysteries.” 

“ Alas, yes ! ” piteously sighed Tonillo. 

“No one knows what becomes of him for the greater part of his time : he dis- 
appears for months together.” 

“ It is but too true,” said Pablito ; “the life of the caballero is mt'St extraordinary.” 
“ To how many dangers he must expose himself,” continued Don Torribio, “in 
those perilous adventures, of which no one knows the object ! ” 

“ It is terrible even to think of them, ” said Carlocho, with an air of conviction, 
“ One so easily meets with mishap in the wilderness,” added the verado, 

“ Without going further, only look what might have happened to yourself to- 
night, sehor ! ” said Tonillo, looking interested. 

“ It is dreadful,” exclaimed Pablito. 

“You will clearly understand, sehores,” resumed Don Torribio, “that I can b) 
no means be responsible for the numberless accidents to which Don Fernando’s 
manner of life exposes him. ” 


Von lorrthio Quiroga, 


13 


“This is incontestable,” cried the others. 

“ Chance seems to take malignant pleasure in deranging and upsetting the best 
conceived plans ; and it is impossible for me to save him from chance. ” 

“There can be no doubt of that,” said Pablito dogmatically; “and no one 
would have the right to utter a word of reproach against you, should wild Don 
Fernando be killed in one of his adventures.” 

“ Exactly what I think ; but as I am now no longer the enemy, but the friend 
of Don Fernando, and take the greatest interest in knowing all that may happen 
to him, so that I might fly to his aid — ” 

“ Or avenge him, if ill luck should have it that he should be killed,” said Car- 
locho. 

“I should like,” continued Don Torribio, “to be constantly aware of what 
happens to him.” 

“Oh, holy friendship !” exclaimed Tonillo, raising his eyes to heaven, “thou 
art not an idle word ! ” 

“ Caballeros, you could not be in a better position for giving me information ; 
and as all trouble should have its reward, you shall receive one hundred ounces 
amongst you, or two hundred, according to the news you bring. You understand ? ” 

“Perfectly, sehor, ” replied Carlocho, with imperturbable composure; “the office 
you confide to us is most honourable. You may rely on our carrying out your views.” 

“ Well, that is settled, senores ; I rely upon the accuracy of your information, 
for you must perceive the ridiculous position in which a false report would place 
me in the eyes of Don Fernando’s numerous friends.” 

“ Trust entirely to us, sehor ; we will confirm our information by irrefragable 
proof.” 

‘ ‘ Good ! I see we understand each other ; it is useless to pursue the matter 
(urtner.” 

“ Perfectly useless, senor; we are men of quick comprehension.” 

Yes,” said Don Torribio, smiling ; “ but, as your memories may be short, do 
hiC the honour of dividing these ten ounces amongst you — not as the earnest- 
money of a bargain, for there is no bargain between us, but as a return for the 
service you have just done me.” 

The vaqueros, without waiting to be pressed, extended their hands, and pocketed 
the ounces. 

“ Now, one word more, caballe7'os : where are we ? ” 

“ In the Selva Nagra,” answered Pablito ; “ four leagues from the Hacienda 
del Cormillo, where Don Pedro di Luna is at present residing,” 

Don Torribio started in astonishment. 

“ What ! has Don Pedro left Las Norias ? ” 

“Yes, sehor; since yesterday. ” 

“ What a singular thing 1 El Cormillo is on the extreme verge of the 
wilderness, in the midst of the Apaches : it is impossible to understand it.” 

“They say it was Doha Plermosa who wished for this change,” 

“What an extraordinary whim ! After the dangers to which she was exposed 
only a few days ago, to come and brave the red-skins.” 

“ The hacienda is strong, and perfectly safe.” 

“True: yet the change of residence seems incomprehensible. At sunrise,! 
should be happy if you would do me the honour of serving me as guides till I get 
within sight of the hacienda. It is important that I should see Don Pedro.” 

I “ We shall be at your orders, sehor.” 

j The night was fleeting ; and Don Torribip had need of repose to restore his 
i strength, exhausted by his late struggle for life. He rolled himself in his zarape, 

I Etretdied out his feet towards the lire, and was soon asleep. 


Sioneheart. 


H 


** The vaquet'os followed his example, after drawing lots amongst themselves as 
to who should watch. 

The post fell to Carlocho : the others closed their eyes ; and silence fell on 
the wilderness. 

Night passed, without anything occurring to disturb the rest of these guests 
of the forest. 

At sunrise the vaqveros were up. After feeding and watering their horses, they 
saddled them, and roused Don Torribio. 

The latter rose at once ; and the five men, mounting, left the clearing which 
had nearly proved so fatal to one of them. 

The Hacienda del Cormillo may be looked upon as the advanced sentinel ot 
the presidio of San-Lucar ; it is, without contradiction, the richest and strongest 
position on the whole Indian frontier. ^ 

The vaqueroSf in company with Don Torribio, had struck into the forest. For 
three hours their route led them along the banks of the Rio Braso del Norto, 
till they were opposite the Hacienda del Cormillo, which dimly showed itself in 
the centre of one of those charming oases created by the deposit of the river, and 
covered with groups of willows, nopals, mezquites, orange and citron trees, and 
jasmines in full flower, amongst the branches of which were a whole host ot 
birds. 

Don Torribio halted, and turning towards his companrons, addressed them : 

“ I must leave you here ; I thank you for the escort you have done me the 
honour to give me. Your help is no longer needed. Return to your avocations, 
sehores.’* 

“ Farewell, caballero,^^ they replied, bowing ceremoniously to him ; “ cast aside 
all anxiety as to the measures we are about to take.” 

They turned the heads of their horses, made them enter the river as if they 
intended to cross it, and soon vanished behind a rise in the ground. 

The families of Don Torribio and Don Pedro di Luna had always lived on a 
Sooting of great intimacy; The young man and the girl had almost been brought 
up together. So, when her handsome cousin had come to bid her adieu, and 
announce his departure for Europe, where he was to stay a few years, in order to 
complete his education and acquire the manners of the fashionable world. Dona 
Hermosa, then about twelve years old, had felt sorry to lose him. They had 
loved each other from infancy, unwittingly obeying the secret impulses (A 
childhood. 

Don Torribio had left her, never doubting that Doha Hermosa was preserving 
her love for him. 

On his return to Vera Cruz, after visiting the most celebrated places of the 
civilized world, he had hastened to put his affairs in order, and set out for San- 
Lucar. burning with desire to meet her whom he loved so dearly, and whom he 
had not seen lor three years 

The surprise and joy of Don Pedro and his daughter were extreme. Hermosa 
was particularly happy, for, we must confess, she had thought all day long of Don 
Torribio, and looked at him through the m».lium of her recollections of childhood ; 
yet at the same time she felt her heart disturbed by mingled sensations of pain and 
pleasure. 

Don Torribio perceived It : he understood, or thought he understood, that she 
still loved him. 

“ Come, children,” the smiling father had said, “ embrace each other ; you have 
my permission.” ^ 

Doha Hermosa, with many blushes, bent forward her forehead to Don Torribicv 
who respectfully touched it with his. 


Bon Torribio Qufroga, 


IS 


** Is that what you call kissing? ” cried Don Pedro. “ Come, no hypocrisy ; 
embrace eacji other frankly. Do not play the coquette. You love each other. 
Give each other an honest kiss, like betrothed lovers as you are ; and if you are 
wise, you will be married off-hand.” 

The young people, moved by his kind words, threw themselves into the arms 
of the venerable man, to hide the depth of tlieir emotion. 

In consequence of this reception, Don Torribio had been formally acknowledged 
as having a claim to the hand of Dona Ilermosa. 

We must do the girl the justice to say, that she sincerely believed she loved her 
cousin. The ties of relationship, their childish friendship, and the long separ- 
ation, which had increased the warmth of their feelings, disposed her to think 
favourably of the marriage proposed by her father. She awaited the day fixed 
for her espousals without any degree of impatience, and looked forward with 
a kind of pleasurable hope to the time when she would be indissolubly united 
to him. 

Although such an assertion wdll most likely make many of our readers cry 
** Fie ! ” upon us, we will nevertheless maintain that a young girl’s first passion is 
rarely genuine love. Her second love originates in the heart ; the first only in the 
brain. A young girl who begins to experience the first emotions of her heart 
naturally allows herself to be attracted by the man who, from circumstances and 
his relations towards her, has long ago obtained her confidence and excited her 
interest. This kind of love, then, is only friendship, fortified by habit and 
magnified by the secret influence exercised by the as yet vague and undecided 
thoughts which crop up in the brains of sixteen ; and lastly, and more than all, by 
the want of opportunities for com]'>aring her lover with others, and the fact that 
the marriage is already settled, and 5rhe thinks it impossible to recede. 

This was the position in which Doha Hernnosa stood towards her cousin. The 
marriage had been retarded, up to the day about which we are now writing, for 
divers reasons, although Don Pedro attached immense importance to it either on 
account of his intended son-in-law’s enormous wealth, or because he was persuaded 
the union would make his daughter hapjry. 

Matters had proceeded thus between the young ])eople, without any remarkable 
incident occurring to trouble the calm of their relations to each other. But at the 
first visit Don Torribio paid his betrothed after her return to the Hacienda de las 
Norias, he perceived, with the clear-sightedness of love, that Dona Hermosa did 
not receive him with the freedom or the frankness to w hich he had been 
: accustomed, 

P' The girl seemed sad and dreamy, and cud not appear to understand the hints he 
[i , threw out about their approaching marriage 

f Don Torribio at first attributed the cha’^ge to one of those nervous influences to 
which young girls are subject, without suspecting it. He fancied she was unwell, 

|i and left her, without dreaming that another filled a place in her heart. 

Moreover, upon whom could his suspicions fall, if he entertained any? 

It was impossible to suppose that, in the two days spent in the prairie among 
: the red-skins. Dona Hermosa could have met with a man who could have touched 
her affections. 

However, Don Torribio was soon compelled to acknowledge, in spite of himself, 

' that what he had at first taken for a girlish whim was a confirmed resolve ; or, in 
I one word, that if Doha Hermosa still preserved for him the friendship to which he^ 
had a right, as the companion of her childhood, her love, if she had ever felt it foi 
! faim, had vanished for ever. 

i When once convinced of this certainty, he became seriously uneasy. The love 
be felt for his cousin was profound and sincere. He saw all his plans of happiness 


Sioneheart, 


crumble together, and he at once resolved to have an explanation from 
the girl. 

It was with the intention of demanding this explanation from Doha Hermosa 
that, instead of returning to San-I/Ucar, he had desired the vaqueros to show him 
the way to the hacienda. But, as soon as his guides left him, his courage nearly 
evaporated. Foreseeing the result of the step he was about to take, he hesitated j 
for, like all lovers, in spite of the pain caused by the girl’s indifference, he would 
have preferred to go on cheating himself with futile expectations, rather than learn 
a truth which would break his heart. , 

The struggle lasted a long time ; more than once he made as if he would ride 
back ; but at last reason conquered passion. He comprehended how difficult the 
position would be, both for Doha Hermosa and himself. Flappen what might, he 
resolved to end it ; and digging his spurs into the flanks of his horse, he galloped 
towards the hacienda^ rightly fearing that, if he lingered longer, he would find no 
strength to accomplish his project. 

When he arrived at El Cormillo, he was informed that Don Pedro and his 
daughter had gone hunting at sunrise. 

“ So much the better,” muttered Don Torribio between his teeth, with a sigh 
of satisfaction at the respite chance had afforded him. 

Without stopping for the refreshments offered him, he turned his horse^s head 
in the direction of San-Lucar* 


CHAPTER m 

LA TLRTULIA (THE PXETY). 


Towards eight o’cloclc in the evening, two days later, two persons wtr c i — \m 
the drawing-room of the Hacienda del Cormillo, close to a brasero (brasier) ; f&t 
the nights were cold. 

A stranger opening the doors of this room could Iwive faacied himself tMMM- 
ported to the Faubourg St. Germain. Parisian luxury was exhibited in the 
carpets, Parisian taste in the choice of the furniture. Everything put you in mind 
of France and Paris, with the exception of the silver brasero, which, with its 
glowing knots of olive-wood, showed that you were in Spanish America. This 
magnificent withdrawing-room was lighted up by candles of rose-coloured wax, ki 
handsome chandeliers. 

It was Don Pedro and his daughter who were seated by the brasero, Dolia 
Hermosa was clad in a dress of the greatest simplicity, which made her look still 
more charming. She was smoking a tiny cigarette, rolled in a maize leaf. 

“Yes,” said she, “the most lovely birds in the world have been brought !• 
the presidio. 

“ Well, querida chica ? ” (my darling). 

“It appears to me that my dearest father is not quite as gallant as usual te» 
night, ” she said. 

“What do you know about that, senorita?” answered Don Pedro, laughing. 

“ What ! is it the truth ? ” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together ; “ yem 
have thought — ” 

“ Of buying you the birds. To-nvorrow you will see your feathered subjects, 
and your aviary stocked with paroquets, love-birds, bengalis, humming-birds, and 
Heaven knows how many others. There are at least four hundred of them, you 
little ingrate ! ” 

“ Oh, how kind you are ! and how I love you I ** replied the gkl, kissing him 
m thousand times. 

“-That will do, that will do, little monkey ! Do you want to stifle me ? ” 

“ What shall I do to show my gratitude ? ” 

“ Poor little dear ! ” said he sadly ; “ I have only yourself to love now.” 

“ Say to adore, my dearest father ; for it is adoration you feel for me ; add 1 
loo love you with all the strength of love whiqH God has given me.” 

“And yet,” said Don Pedro, “ you are nd^ afraid of causing me unoasiiwau** 

^*11” said Hermosa, beginning to tremblo. 

C 


i8 


Stonehearf. 


Yes, you,” he replied, raising his finger ; “you are concealing something.** 
Father ! ” she murmured softly. 

^ “ Daughter, a father’s eye can pierce to the bottom of the heart of a girl of 
sixteen. Some extraordinary change has taken place in you these last few cUys.” 

“You are right, father,” she replied with a good deal of firmness. 

“And what are you dreaming about, little girl?” 

“About Don Torribio di Quiroga, father.” 

“ Aha ! ” replied he, “because you love him.” 

Dona Hermosa assumed a serious expression, and said, “No! I deceived 
myself. I do not love Don Torribio, and yet I cannot help thinking of him. 
Since his return from Europe, a change has come over him. It seems to me, that 
he is not the same person who was brought up with me. His look pains yet 
fascinates me ; his voice raises a feeling of undefinable sorrow. Certainly, the 
man is handsome ; his manners are noble, and his bearing that of a high-bred 
gentleman : yet there is something nameless about him which chills me.” 

** How romantic ! ” said Don Pedro, laughing. 

“Laugh at me ! mock me ! ” she replied. “Shall I confess everything, father?** 

“ Speak confidently, dearest child.” 

“ I will. I believe this man, whom I thought I loved, will bring evil upon me.** 

“Child,” replied Don Pedro, kissing her forehead, “what ill could he do 
you ? ” 

“ Father, I cannot tell ; but I dread it.” 

“ Do you wish me to break wdth him, and not to admit him again? ” 

“ Heaven forbid ! it would certainly hasten the misfortune that threatens me.” 

“ Pooh ! you are a spoilt child ! You grow whimsical, and amuse yourself by 
creating phantoms. All these fears and imaginary presentiments spring from youi 
love for your cousin. The only way to restore your tranquillity is to marry you to 
him as soon as possible. ” 

Dona Hermosa shook her head sorrowfully, and cast down her eyes, but she 
made no reply ; she felt that her father had completely misunderstood her meaning. 

At that moment Don Torribio was announced. 

He was dressed in the latest Paris fashion ; and the glare of the candles lighted 
up his handsome face. 

Don Torribio, after gracefully saluting Doha Hermosa, approached her and 
respectfully offered her a superb bouquet of flowers. She took them with a forced 
smile, and placed them on the table. 

Soon after, other persons were announced : the governor, Don Jose Kalbris ; 
two or three families — in all, about twenty people ; and, lastly, Don Estevan Dias 
and Don Fernando Carril. 

We have already said that Don Fernando Carril, although his life was wrapped 
in impenetrable mystery, was superficially known to all the best society in the 
provinces, and, thanks to the easy-going manners of the Mexicans, received in the 
best families. His presence at the hacienda was, therefore, nothing extraordinary. 

Like Don Torribio, the hunter, when he entered the room, approached Dona 
Hermosa, bowed profoundly to her, and respectfully offered her a flower he held 
in his hand. 

“ Senorita,” said he, in a voice full of suppressed emotion, “deign to accept 
this modest flower; it grows only in the desert,” he added, significantly. 

Dona Hermosa trembled at the sound of his voice, which she thought she had 
recognized ; a lively blush rose to her cheeks ; and dropping her eyes under the 
ardent gaze fixed upon her, she took the flower and placed it in her bosom. 

“ Everything that comes from the desert will be dear to me henceforth.” 

The little incident passed without remark, except from one person, who, with 


La Tertulia. 


19 


that kind of intuition which springs from love and jealousy, had divined in Don 
Fernando one who, if not an openly declared rival, was, at least, preferred in secret. 

This person was Don Torribio di Quiroga. 

Leaning towards Don Estevan, who chanced to be near him, he said, in a voice 
low indeed, but perfectly distinct and audible to all : “ What golden key does this 
man possess, whom nobody knows, by which he introduces himself into honour- 
able families ? ” 

“Ask him yourself, senor,” said Don Estevan, dryly ; “he will most likely be 
able to explain.” 

“I shall follow your advice this instant, senor,” answered Don Torribio, 
haughtily. 

“ It is unnecessary, caballero ; I heard your words perfectly,” said Don Fernando. 

His voice was calm, and he made a bow to Don Torribio, while an ironical 
smile curled his lips. 

All conversation had been suddenly broken off ; a profound silence reigned over 
those present, and the looks of all were turned towards the two men. 

Dona Hermosa, pale and trembling, cast a look of entreaty on her father. 

Don Pedro walked resolutely into the middle of the room, and placed himseli 
between the two. 

“What does this mean, sehores? ” said he. “ Is this the idea of propriety you 
have brought back from your travels in Europe, Don Torribio ? Do you dare to 
turn my drawing-room into lists wherein to break your lance in personal quarrels? 
What right have you to cavil at Don Fernando’s presence here ? I am master 
here, and can receive whom I think fit.” 

“Even cut-throats and highwaymen, cousin, if such is your good pleasure,” 
replied the young man. 

“Will Don Torribio deign to explain himself,” said Don Fernando calmly, 
“ and not speak in enigmas ? ” 

“ And whose fault is it, caballero^ if I speak in enigmas ? Are you not the cause 
of the mystery ?” 

“Enough!” exclaimed Don Pedro; “he who utters another word on this 
•ubject is my mortal enemy.” 

The two men bowed respectfully to the haciendero^ and separated. 

“Well, colonel,” continued Don Pedro, addressing the governor, in the hopes 
of glossing over the lamentable altercation, “what news from La Ciudad ? Is 
Mexico still tranquil? ” 

“ Our great Santa-Anna,” replied the colonel, who was choking in his uniform, 
“has once more soundly beaten the audacious general who has dared to issue a 
pronunciaviiento, ” 

“ Thank God ! Perhaps this victory will procure us the tranquillity we need 
so much.” 

“ Yes,” said a rich haciendero^ a neighbour of Don Pedro. “Communication 
has been so difficult of late, that we can forward nothing.” 

“ Are the red-skins at work ? ” asked a merchant. 

“ No,” said the governor ; “there is no danger from them. The last lesson they 
got was a rude one, and they will not forget it. For a long time they have not 
dared to invade our frontiers.” 

An almost imperceptible smile curled the lips of Don Fernando. “ You forget 
the Tigercat and his adherents,” said he. 

“Oh! the Tigercat is only a bandit,” said the governor hastily. “Besides, 
Government is at this moment preparing an expedition against him.” 

“ Lt is an admirable idea,” said Don Torribio, with a sneer. “ It is time this 
frontier should be cleared of the host of fellows who infest it.” 


Stoneheart. 


90 


** I am quite of the same opinion ; it seems a most sensible measure,” said Don 
Fernando quietly. 

* ‘ In case of invasion, do you think the Indians able to give the province much 
trouble ? ” asked the merchant. 

“ H’m !” said Don Jose, with a patroni-ziing air ; “ people entertain exaggerated 
ideas of these red-skins ; in fact, they are but miserable wretches.” 

Don Fernando smiled again ; but this time the smile was savage and sini.ster. 

Senor gobernador,'^ said he, ‘‘ you are not quite right. To judge by the news 
you were good enough to communicate, I believe the Indians will keep quite 
peaceably at home.” 

“ Rayo di Dios! I should think so,” replied the governor. 

“Ah! senorita,” said Don Torribio, gracefully turning to Doha Hermosa, 
“ may I pray of your kindness to let us hear that delicious song from the Domitifi 
Noir, which you sang to such perfection a few days ago ?” f 

Doha Hermosa darted a look from under her long lashes at Don Fernando, 
The latter’s eyes conveyed a mute prayer of entreaty. .Without further hesitation, 
she placed herself at the piano. 

“ I remember having heard that delicious romance sung in Paris by 
Madame Demareau, that nightingale who flew away too soon,” said Don Torribio, 
bowing gallantly to Doha Hermosa. “ I know not whether you or she sang it 
with most taste and spirit.” 

She answered : “ Cousin, you have lived too long in France.” 

“ How so, senorita ? ” 

“Because,” she replied, with a smile, “France has made yon a detestable 
flatterer. ” 

“ Bravo R'* chuckled the fat governor, whose cheeks shook with delight. “ You 
see, Don Torribio, our creoles rival the Parisian ladies in the smartness of their 
repartee. ” 

“ Incontestably, colonel,” answered Don Torribio. “ But I can take my own 
part,” he added in an undefinable tone ; “I shall soon have my revenge.” 

“Don Fernando, and you other Caballeros here present,” said the governor, 
“ I hope that to-morrow you will attend the Te Deum to be sung in honour of 
our glorious Santa- Anna.” 

“ I shall have the honour,” said Don Fernando. 

The others made a similar response. 

“ As for me,” said Don Torribio, “ you must excuse me, colonel ; for business 
compels me to leave to-night.” 

“What!” cried Don Pedro, in astonishment; “you are going to travel 
to-night, cousin ? ” 

“ I am indeed, Senor Don Pedro ; I am obliged to leave you, even though 1 
have but just arrived.” 

“ Well, that IS a singular and most unforeseen resolution. Where are you going?” 

“ Excuse me if I keep the object of my expedition secret.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said Don Pedro peevishly. “ And do you intend to stay away long?” 

“ I hope not, but dare not say I am sure.” 

“ So much the better. Comeback to us as soon as you can; for,” said he, 
•^ificantly, “ your return will please all of us here.” 

“ QuzensabeV^ (who knows?) muttered Don Torribio, with a sinister expression.' 

While Don Pedro and his cousin were exchanging these words, the girl 
whispered to Don Estevan : 

, “ Brother, to-morrow, after mass, I want to speak to you at my nurse’s.” 

\ “ To me, or to my friend?” said Don Estevan. 

To both, ” »he answered. 


La Tertulia, 


31 


Don Estevan and Don Fernando now retired with joyful hearts. The latter was 
sure that Dona Hermosa had recognized him. 

The other visitors also departed, tUl Don Torribio di Quiroga was left alone 
with his host, i 

“ Cousin,” said he, in a low and broken voice, “ I am about to begin a journey 
in which I shall incur considerable danger. May I hope you will remember 
the traveller in your prayers ? ” 

Hermosa looked him in the face for an instant, and replied with an austerity 
unusual in her : 

“ Cousin, I cannot pray for the success of a journey the purport of which I do 
not know.” 

“ Thanks for your frankness, senorita, ” he replied, without exhibiting emotion. 

“ So you are really going, Don Torribio ? ” said Don Pedro, who joined them at 
♦he moment. 

This very instant, cousin : ail is ready for my departure.” 

“ Then I wish you luck ! I hope we shall soon hear from you.*' 

“Yes,” he replied, with a singular expression; “you shall soon hear of me. 
Farewell ! ” 

- “ What is the matter with your cousin, nina ? ” asked Don Pedro, when he found 
himself alone with his daughter. 

Before she could answer, the door opened. “ The capataz of the Hacienda de 
las Norias,” said a peoft who had entered, “wishes to speak to Senor Don Pedro 
di Luna on affairs of consequence.” 

“ Admit him instantly,” replied Don Pedro to the domestic. 

Don Torribio was terribly agitated when he left the house. He looked back, 
and cast a venomous eye on the windows of the room. 

“ Proud girl,” said he, in a terrible voice, “ I hate you with ah the power of the 
love 1 once felt for you ! Soon will I punish your disdain. ” 

Then, wrapping his cloak around him, he rapidly took the direction of the nearest 
fatio^ where he hoped to find his horse. Indeed, he found him there, a peon 
folding the bridle. Don Torribio seized the reins, threw the peon a piastre, flung 
himself into the saddle, and rode off.” 

“ Wagh / " said the Indian, “what ails the young master f une would think him 
mad.” 

Meanwhile Don Torribio had left the hacienda behind him, and was making all 
haste on the road to San- Lu car. 

But he had not ridden more than a quarter of an hour, when suddenly, at a turn 
of the road, his horse gave a start of terror, reared, and flew round, with his ears 
laid close to his head. Don Torribio looked up. 

A man of tall stature, mounted on a strong black horse, held the middle of the 
road four or five paces in advance of him, and completely barred his passage. 

Don Torribio cocked a pistol. 

“Holloa, Caballero he cried in a sharp tone: “move to the right or the 
left.” 

“ Neither to one nor the other, Don Torribio di Quiroga. I want to speak to 
you. ” 

“ It is a singular demand at this time oPnight.” 

“ I did not choose my time. Did you not receive a note without a signature to- 

“ I did,” said Don Torribio, striking his forehead ; “ and the note proposed — ” 

•*To teach you things,” interrupted the stranger, “which it is important you 
should know.” 

“Those were the words contained in the note.” 


32 


Stoneheart, 


••It was I who sent it.” 

Indeed ! ” said Don Torribio. 

•* Yes ; and I am ready to satisfy you : but, to do that, you must follow me.” 

•* But what good will it do me to know these matters ? Perhaps it would be 
better to leave them untold.” 

“ As you please ; I do not force you to listen to me. Every one is free to act as 
he chooses . If you prefer to sit down under insult without avenging yourself, I 
have no objection.” 

These words were uttered with such a sneer, that Don Torribio could not help 
shuddering. 

“ Do you in truth offer me revenge ? ” he asked in a voice half stifled with rage. 

“ You shall judge, if you will follow me.” 

“Demon!” cried Don Torribio, “whoever thou mayst be, lead on, since it 
must be so ! I will follow thee, even unto hell.” 

“Amen,” said the stranger, with a sinister chuckle ; and the two riders dashed 
into the darkness. 


CHAPTER Ve 


THE AMBUSH. 

Don Fernando and his friend, as we have related, left the hacienda a little 
before Don Torribio. They had made all haste to reach their dwelling. 

Doha Manuela was expecting them. In a few words they reported to her all 
that had happened at the iertulia^ and hastened to their couches ; for they were 
obliged to leave again at daybreak. In fact, according to agreement, they mounted 
their horses a little before four in the morning. 

In Mexico, on account of the intense heat of the day, people generally travel by 
night ; that is to say, from four in the morning till eleven, and from six in the 
evening till midnight. Nine o’clock struck as the three entered the p7‘e5idio, Don 
Fernando left his friend and the mother to find their way to the house he possessed 
in San-Lucar, while he himself repaired to the governor’s house, whither affairs of 
grave importance called him. 

The worthy governor overwdielmed the visitor with civilities, and seemed unable 
to show him sufficient courtesy. But, in spite of the efforts of his host, Don Fer- 
nando perceived that Don Jose Kalbris was a prey to deep anxiety. 

Don Jose Kalbris was a brave and worthy soldier, true as steel, to whom the 
Mexican government had given the charge of the piesidio as a recompense for his 
valiant services during the War of Independence. 

Don Jose, endowed with moclerate intelligence, but rich in experience, and 
narmly supported by the better classes, who had entire confidence in him, had 
contrived to maintain peace in his province without much difficulty up to the time 
of w'hich we are speaking. This denoted a certain strength of character in the old 
soldier, who was without education, and had made his owm career, particularly 
w h.en one takes into consideration the difficulty of his receiving support from his 
Government. 

In person the governor was a tall, stout man, with a purple and bloated face, 
perfectly self-satisfied, and fond of hearing himself talk. 

Don Fernando, w^ell acquainted with the colonel’s character, and holding him in 
great esteem, was astounded at the uneasiness he displayed, and the change from 
his usual manner. Fancying that want of money might be at the bottom of his 
embarrassment, he resolved to sound him. 

“ Holloa ! ” said the colonel, “ what good wind blows you here so early, Don 
Fernando ? ” 

The wish to see you,” replied the latter, pressing the hand the colonel extended. 


•4 


Sioneheart, 


** It is very kind of you. You will breakfast with me, of course ? ** 

“ I came to invite myself.” 

‘‘That is right,” said the colonel, striking a bell. 

A domestic entered. 

“ This Caballero will do me the honour to breakfast with me.” 

The servant, a well-trained soldier, disappeared. 

“ By-the-bye, Don Fernando, I have a heap of papers here addressed to you.” 

“ Thank Heaven ! I was afraid they had been cfelayed. I want them particu- 
larly.” 

“ So much the better, then,” said the colonel, producing the papers. 

“ Breakfast is ready,” said the same man who had appeared an instant before. 

The governor and his guest proceeded to the breakfast-room, where they found 
a third person waiting for them. This was a Major Barnum, an Englishman, tall, 
dry, thin, and formal, as brave a soldier as ever existed ; for twenty years in the 
service of the Mexican Republic, devoted heart and soul to the country of his 
adoption, and second in command in the presidio of San-Lucar. 

He and Don Jose had seen much service together, and were attached to each 
other like two brothers. 

Don Fernando and Major Bamum were slightly acquainted, and glad of the 
meeting ; for the Englishman was an excellent fellow, and hid a warm and loya 
heart under his cold manner. 

After the usual greetings, all three seated themselves, and commenced a vigorous 
attack on the delicacies with which the board was supplied. 

When the first keen relish of appetite had been appeased, the conversation became 
more lively, and at the close of the meal grew quite amicable and confidential. 

“By-the-bye, what is the matter with you, Don Jose?” said Don Fernando. 
“ There is something odd about you to-day.” 

“ Right,” said the governor, draining a glass of xeres de la frontera (sherry) ; “ I 
feel sad.” 

“You sad ! If I had not noticed your appetite at breakfast, I should think you 
were ill.” 

“ Well,” said the soldier, with a sigh, “ my appetite is good.” 

“ Then what is there to vex you ? ” 

“ I have a presentiment of evil ! ” said the governor, seriously. 

“ A presentiment of evil ! ” echoed the major, “ I know that at first sight it seems 
ridiculous for old soldiers like ourselves to attach importance to such folly, which 
is only, at the best, the result of a diseased imagination. Nevertheless, I too feel 
like the colonel ; I am uneasy without knowing why ; I expect every moment to 
receive evil tidings.” 

“Ah,” said the governor, “ the major has just described my own sensations. 
Long as my career as a soldier has been, I have never felt so anxious and oppressed 
as now. Don Fernando, God does give warnings of danger to man.” 

“ I do not deny it. I know you too well to have the least intention to question 
your conviction. But still, how is it to be accounted for? You and Major 
Barnum are not men to be afraid of a shadow. Has nothing occurred to confirm 
your presentiment ? ” 

“Nothing as yet,” replied the governor; “but I momentarily expect bad 
news.” 

“Come, come, Don Jose!” said Don Fernando gravely; “you are suffering 
from an attack of a malady very common in the major’s country, where they call 
it ‘ the blue devils.* It is a kind of spleen, caused by the fogs in England. Do 
you not think so, major?” 

“ I wish it were so ” said that officer, shaking his head. 


The ambush. 


25 


“ Pooh ! ” said Don Fernando : ** life is short enough. What is the use o£ 
creating bugbears ? And, besides, who is there to give you trouble ? ” 
^^Quiensabe! We are never sure of anything.’* 

“ Nonsense ! The Indians are as quiet as lambs.” 

Just then a servant opened the door, and beckoned to the governor, 

‘ ‘ What do you want ? ” said the latter. 

“ Sehor,” replied the servant, ** a vaquero^ just arrived in all haste, requests an 
audience,** 

This announcement fell like a sheet of ice on the three Caballeros. 

‘*Let him come in,” said the colonel. 

Then casting a look of inconceivable sadness on Don Fernando, he added : 

“ It is fate herself who undertakes to answer you ! ** 

“ We shall see ! ** replied Don Fernando. 

Heavy footsteps were heard in the adjacent apartments, and Pablito entered. 

The man had indeed the look of one who brings bad news. He seemed to have 
just left the battle-field — to have escaped from a massacre. His clothes hung in 
rags, stained with mud and gore ; his face, pale as death, had an expression of 
sadness very strange in such a man. It was with difficulty he held himself 
upright, so dreadfully jaded he seemed by the struggle he had had to reach the 
presidio. His spurs left a bloody mark on the floor at every step ; and he was 
forced to support himself on his rifle. 

The three men looked at him with fear and pity. 

“ Here,*’ said Don Fernando, pouring out a tumbler of wine ; “drink this ; it 
will restore you. ” 

“No ! ’* said Pablito, thrusting back the glass ; “I thirst for blood, not wine ! ** 
These words were uttered in such a tone of hatred and despair, that the listeners 
involuntarily turned pale, and shuddered with horror. 

“ What has happened? ’* said the colonel. 

The vaquero wiped the cold sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, vsA 
said, in short, sharp accents, which .struck terror into his hearers ; 

“ The Indians are upon us I ’* 

• “ Have you seen them ? ” asked the major. 

“ Yes,” said he abruptly ; “I have seen them.” 

*• When was that — to-day ? *’ 

“ This very morning, colonel.” 

“Far from hence ? ” 

“ About twenty leagues. They have already crossed the Rio del Norte.” 

* * Already ! How many are there ? ” 

“ Count the sand-grains in the desert, and you will know.” 

“ It is impossible ! ” said the colonel. “ The Indians cannot assemble in »i»ch 
numbers in a day. Your fears have deceived you.” 

“ Fears ! ” laughed Pablito. “ Fear is very well for you who live in towns ; m 
the wilderness we have no time to make her acquaintance. ” 

“Well, then, how are they coming?** 

“Like a tornado, burning and pillaging as they come.” 

“ Is it their intention to attack the presidio ? ’* 

“ They have formed an immense half-moon, the two horns of which are newiag 
us.” 

“Are they still a good way off? ” 

“ Yes ; for they are acting on a preconceived plan, establishing themselves 
firmly in places capable of defence, and apparently not governed by the sole 
instinct of pillage ; but, as it would seem, obeying the directions of a chief who 
understands the art of war.” 


Stoneheart, 


*6 


“ This looks serious,” said the governor. 

The major shook his head, 

“Why have you waited so long before you warned us ?” said he. 

“ This morning, at daybreak, my comrades and I were surrounded 1^ more 
than two hundred of these demons. We defended ourselves like lioas : one if 
dead ; two of us are wounded, but we managed to escape.” 

“ Get back to your post as soon as possible ; they shall give you a fresh horse.” 

“ I will be off directly, colonel.” 

The vaqttero saluted and left. Five minutes later, they beard him cktteriof 
along the road. 

“ Well,” said the colonel ; what did I tell you? Did my forebodings lie?” 

Don Fernando rose. 

“ Where are you going? ” asked the colonel 

“Back to the Hacienda del Cormillo.” 

“ At once ! without finishing your breakfast ? ” 

“This instant. I am torn by indescribable anxiety. The Indians may attack 
the hacienda,^'' 

“ El Cormillo is fortified, and cannot be taken by a coup^de-niain. However, I 
think Dona Hermosa would be safer here. Try, if there is time, to induce Doa 
Pedro to return. I should be glad to see him and his daughter safe among us.” 

“ Thank you, colonel ; your advice is excellent, I will use every effort to 
induce Don Pedro to follow it. Good-bye. I venture to flatter myself that an 
energetic demonstration on your part will rid us of these ferocious foes.” 

“ God grant it ! But I scarcely hope as much.” 

“ Farewell, caballeros, and good luck ! ” said Don Fernando, pressing the hands^ 
of the two old soldiers. 

Don Estevan was waiting for him in the court. 

“ Well,” said the mayor domo, “you have heard the news? The Indians axe 
coming.” 

“ Yes ; I have heard so.” 

“ What do you intend to do? ” 

“To return to the hacienda at once.” ^ 

“ H’m ! that would be scarcely prudent. You know how speedily these demoij^ 
spread themselves over all the country.” 

“ Well ! we will ride over their corpses.” 

“ Canarios ! I dare say. But you may be killed.” 

“ Pooh ! Doha Hermosa expects me ; and I am not killed yet.” 

“ True ; but you may be.” 

“ Well, we shall see.” 

“ Probably so. However, as I foresaw the objections you would make, I V 
aiTanged everything to go. The horses are ready saddled, the peoncs in waiting.;. 

“Thanks, Estevan ; you are really a friend.” 

“ I know it,” said the latter, with a gay smile. 

Estevan Diaz whistled, and the peoncs entered the court, leading two horses b ! 
their bridles. 

They gave the horses their heads, and began to push their way slowly through th . 
crowd of idlers assembled before the gates of the fortress to learn the latest news, an ■ 
trotted down the steep incline leading from the fort to the old presidio, replying, a 
well as they could, to the questions with which they were assailed on all sides. 

It was a stormy day. The sky was grey and lowering ; the birds wheeled screano 
ing around ; and the wind, blowing in squalls, roared in the deep defiles of the road^ 

The two peones who had brought the news of the Indians’ march upon the 
^presidio rode twentv paces in advance, and scanned the country on each side of 


The ambush. 




27 


the road with startled looks, expecting every instant to sec *he red-skins make their 
appearance, and to hear the dreaded war-whoop. 

In the meanwhile, the nearer the travellers got to the river, the more the storm 
increased in intensity. The rain fell in torrents, the lightning flashed incessantly, 
and the peals of thunder rolled majestically among the high cliffs, from whioh 
enormous crags were constantly detached, and hurled crashing into the river. 

The storm had reached such a pitch of fury, that the riders had the greatest 
difliculty in making progress, and were in constant danger of falling with their 
horses, which were plunging wildly in their fright at the tempest. The ground, 
soaked with rain, affbixk d no foot-hold for the poor brutes : they slipped and 
stumbled at every step, snorted violently, and threatened to break down. 

“It is impossible to get further,” said the mayor domo. 

** But what is to be done ? ” asked Don Fernando, looking about him with 
great anxiety. 

“ I think we had better take shelter imder this clump of trees for a while : the 
storm grows worse and worse.” 

“ I^t us do so, if w^e must,” said Don Fernado resignedly. 

Accordingly they turned towards a small copse on one side of the road. 

They were only a few paces from it, when four men, their faces covered with black 
masks, rushed out of the wood, and dashed at the travellers, whom they attacked 
without uttering a word. The peones fell from their saddles, knocked over by two 
shots from the masked strangers, and rolled on the ground in convulsive agony. 

Don Fernando and Don Estevan, astonished at this sudden attack by men w^ho 
could not be Indians — for they were dressed like vaqueros^ and their hands were 
white — instantly dismounted, and, placing themselves behind their horses, awaited 
their assailants’ onset with cocked rifles. 

The latter, after making sure of the death of the peones^ turned their horses* 
heads to attack the two Spaniards. Shots were again exchanged, and a terrible 
combat began — a dreadful struggle of two men against four — in which no word was 
spoken, and which was intended to end in the death of those who had been so 
treacherously set upon. However, the combat w'as sustained with a semblance of 
equality which discouraged the assailants, of whom one had already fallen, cut down 
to the teeth ; while a second was retreating, wdth his chest pierced. 

“ Aha ! my masters,” exclaimed Don Fernando ; “ have you had enough, or do 
you wish to make further acquaintance with my blade? ” 

“ What ! ” added the mayor domo^ “are you already satisfied ? You are not clever 
enough for highwaymen ; the man who pays you might have made a better choice.” 

The two remaining men in masks had withdrawn a few paces, and stood on the 
defensive. 

Suddenly four other masked men appeared, and all six rushed upon the 
Spaniards, who awaited them firmly. 

“ The devil ! I wronged you by my suspicion,” said Don Estevan. “ I see you 
are up to your work ” ; and he discharged a pistol point-blank into the midst of 
his adversaries. 

The latter, still without a word, answered his fire. 

But the two brave Spaniards could not defend themselves much longer : the.y 
Were exhausted with fatigue ; and it was not long before they, in their turn, fell on 
the dead bodies of two more of their assailants, whom they had sacrificed to thedr 
fury before they fell. 

When they saw Don Fernando and Don Estevan stretched on the ground, the 
strangers uttered a shout of triumph. Without troubling themselves about the 
mayo domo^ they seized the body of Don Fernando, threw it over the neck of one of 
their horses, and rapidly vanished amongst the manifold complications of the road. 


CHAPTER Vt 


lAN-LUCAR. 

Whem Don Fernando left them, the governor and the major remained perfectly 
mute a while, overcome by the gravity of the news. But a state of prostration 90 
much at variance with the character of the two veterans could not last long. 
They soon recovered their animation, like two noble steeds who prick up their 
cars at the signal for the charge ; their features resumed their usual expression ; and, 
having exchanged a shake of the hand, they left the apartment. 

“ The shock has been a rude one, and I was far from expecting it,’* said the 
colonel ; “but, vive Dios I the pagans shall find out whom they have to deal with. 
Major, have the officers’ call sounded.” 

“ That is right,” replied the major ; “just what you ought to do. I had rather 
see you thus — proud, resolute, and stern — than troubled and anxious, as you have 
looked these last few days. Carat! you are yourself again.” 

“Well,” said the governor, smiling, “you ought not to be astonished at the 
change, my dear Barnuirv For some time past I have been sadly oppressed by 
vague forebodings, and the ill they threatened seemed the greater, because I could 
not divine what it might be. Now the stroke has fallen, I know what I have to do.** 

“ Quite true,” said the major, leaving him to obey the orders he had received 
from his chief. 

The officers of the garrison were soon assembled around the governor. Don 
Jose Kalbris invited them to be seated, and then addressed them : 

“ Caballeros y you are aware why I have sent for you : the Indians threaten us 
once more. I have just got the information from one of our bravest scouts — in 
fact, the most faithful and intelligent of them all. It is a grave case, sehores ; for 
the Indians have leagued themselves together, and are marching against us in greart 
force. I have caused you to meet here in order to organize a vigorous defence. ” 

“ We have plenty of arms and ammunition,*’ said the major. “ We have two 
hundred thousand pounds of powder, abundance of muskets, sabres, and pistols 5 
and the guns are in good condition, and amply supplied with shot and grape.” 

“ A capital account,” said the colonel, rubbing his hands for joy. 

“Unfortunately,” continued the major, “though we have plenty of arms, we 
have few men.” 

“How many men have we ? ” 

“ The effective state should be two hundred and seventy; but disease, death, 
and desertion have reduced them to a hundred and twenty.” 


^an-Lucar, 


29 


‘‘The deuce !” said the colonel, shaking his head; “but I think we might 
manage to increase the number. We are in one of those critical positions, where 
the end sanctifies the means : we must not be nice in our choice. Besides, the 
common safety is in question. I trust to meet with no opposition to the execution 
of my plan. ” 

“ What is it ? we all go hand in hand with you.” 

“ I know that very well. I do not allude to you, senores, but to the inhabitants 
of the town, who will reject it. It is of the last importance to make an imposing 
show of men on the walls. Now, this is what I propose : all the peones of the 
haciendas shall be enrolled, and formed into companies ; the merchants shall form 
another corps ; the hacienderosy well mounted and armed, shall defend the 
approaches and patrol the plain. By these means, we shall muster an effective 
force of about eleven hundred men.” 

“You must recollect, colonel, that the greater number of the vaqueros here are 
criminals.” 

‘ ‘ For that reason, I have appointed them the exterior defence of the place. 
They shall encamp outside the presidio, into which they shall not enter on any 
pretence. To lessen the chance of a mutiny amongst them, they shall be formed 
into two divisions — one of which shall be constantly employed in scouring the 
neighbourhood, while the other remains in camp.” 

“ As for the creoles, and the strangers at present in the presidio,'*'' said the major, 
•‘I think you had better order them to assemble in the fort every night.” 

“ Very good. You will also double the number of scouts. You will also hav« 
the entrances to the place barricaded, to check the charges of the Indians.” 

“ Permit me to propose, colonel, that a man to be depended upon should be 
despatched to put the Jiacienderos on their guard, and wain them to take refuge 
in the fort at the signal of three guns.” 

“ It shall be done, m ijor ; or these poor fellows would be all massacred by the 
pagans. The inhabitants of the town must also be warned to retire — the women 
into the fort — as soon as the Indians are visible, or they may be carried off. Now 
our fate is in the hands of God, who will surely not abandon us in circumstances 
of such great peril.” 

The officers rose, and were about to take leave, when another vaquero was 
announced. 

Don Jose made signs to his officers to remain, and ordered the scout to be 
introduced. 

It was Tonillo el Zapote, Pablito’s friend. He had left the place where they 
had hidden themselves to watch the movements of the Indians four hours after his 
comrade, and yet had arrived at the presidio only an hour later. 

He looked as impudent and sneering as ever. His face was pale, and smeared 
vith blood and powder ; his dress was torn in many places ; while the bandage 
;ound his head, one arm in a sling, and, more than all, three or four scalps which 
hung bleeding from his girdle, showed that he had had a hard tussle with the 
Indians. 

“ Zapote ! ” said the governor, “your comrade, Pablito, has just left me.** 

“ I know, colonel, ” answered the vaquero. 

“ Have you brought us worse tidings than his? ” 

“ That depends upon the light in which you look upon them, senores.” 

“ What do your words imply ? ” 

“ Oh ! ” was the reply ; “if you love your ease, it is very probable it would be 
troubjed before long, and, in that case, the news I bring cannot be very pleasant ; 
but if you are fond of mounting to meet the redskins, you can easily gratify your 
whim, and all I have to tell you w^l 1^ p^^ptable. *" 


30 


Stonehean 


Notwithstanding the gravity of the situation and the anxiety they felt, the governor 
and his officers could not help smiling. 

“Explain, Zapote,” said Don Jose; “we shall then know what to think of 
your tidings. ” 

“ Hardly ten minutes after my comrade left me, I was rummaging in the bushes, 
which seemed to me to have an odd kind of motion, when I discovered a peon^ 
whose terror was so great, that it took me a good half-hour to get him to describe 
the dangers from which he had escaped. The fellow belonged to a poor old man 
called Ignacip Rayal. The peon and his mastef were looking for firewood, without 
dreaming of danger, when the Indians suddenly started up close by. The former 
had time to hide himself in a drain ; but the old man, too feeble to save himself, 
fell into the hands of the savages, who butchered him with all the refinements of 
their horrid barbarity. His body was riddled with wounds, till his own mother 
would not have known him, he had received twenty lance-thrusts, and his head 
was smashed to atoms with tomahawks. I left \}[i^peon to watch in our ambuscade, 
after I had restored his courage as well as I could, and, proceeding in the direction 
he pointed out, was not long in seeing a host of Indians driving before them a 
multitude of cattle and prisoners. These fellows put everything to sack and fire 
on their route. The haciendas of Piedra Rosa and San- Bias are no longer standing; 
they are a heap of ashes. These are my tidings, sehores.” 

“ And these scalps ? ” said the governor, pointing to the bloody trophies. 

“Oh ! these are nothing, ’ he replied, with a smile of triumph ; “as I had 
got too near the Indians, in the hope of getting a better idea of their force and 
intentions, they saw me, and naturally we had a bit of a skirmish.” 

“ I presume these Indians are a party of pillagers from the wilderness, who 
want to steal cattle, and will retire when they. have enough booty.” 

“ H’m ! ” said Tonillo, shaking his head; “ I am not sure of that. There are 
too many of them ; they are too well equipped. Colonel, these fellows have 
another object : unless I am greatly mistaken, they intend to wage war to the 
knife.” 

The governor exchanged looks with his officers. 

“ Thank you, Zapote,” said he ; “lam pleased with you. Your conduct has 
been that of a loyal man. Return to your post, and be doubly vigilant.” 

“You may rely on me, colonel. You know, we do not exactly love the 
Indians,” said Tonillo. 

“You see, senores,” said the governor, “ that the situation grows more critical 
every minute. We will lose no more time in deliberation. You may go.” 

“ One moment,” said the major ; “ I have a piece of advice to give before we 
separate.” 

“ Let us hear it, old friend.” 

“No precaution must be omitted in the perilous circumstances which surround 
us. We are here in an out-of-the-way place, far from any speedy and efficacious 
support. We may have to sustain a siege in the presidio, and run the risk of 
being starved out. I propose that a vessel be immediately despatched to the 
governor-general of the State, to apprise him of our critical position, and to 
request reinforcements.” 

A profound and solemn silence followed this speech. 

“ What do you think of Major Bamum’s advice ? ” said the colonel to his officers 

“We agree to it,” said one of them, speaking in the name of the others ; “ and 
we think it ought to be put into execution without delay.” 

“ I am of the same opinion,” said Don Jose; “let it be so. Caballeros, you 
retire.” 

The terrible danger menacing them made all the inhabitants of the presidio 


San-Lucar, 


3S 


responsible to each other ; it seemed to give courage to those who had none, and 
redouble the ardour of the otliers. 

Two hours later, troops of cattle were driven into the town, the streets barricaded, 
the guns supplied with ammunition, and the women and children shut up in the 
buildings within the fort. 

A vessel had been despatched to the capital of the state, as had been agreed on 
in council ; and a hundred and fifty resolute men intrenched themselves in the old 
presidio. 

The governor and Major Bamum seemed to multiply themselves ; they were 
ubiquitous, encouraging the newly enlisted, helping the workmen, and speaking 
hope to all. 

About three o’clock in the afternoon, a strong wind arose, bringing with it from 
the south-west volumes of thick smoke, obstructing the view of objects at a distance. 
It was caused by the conflagration throughout the country. 

The Indian tribes always have recourse to this measure when they intend to 
invade the territories of the whites ; an excellent aid to their system of attack by 
surprise, for, by shrouding the country in smoke, they prevent the scouts dis- 
covering them from afar. 

On the day in question, the Indians, unhappily for the Mexicans, succeeded 
better than their wont ; for the wind drove the smoke across the open, and one 
could scarcely distinguish objects at ten paces. 

The scouts came galloping in one after the other, to report to the governor the 
approach of the enemy, who, according to their calculations, would reach the 
i)residio that night. 

The masses of Indians increased every moment. Their hordes covered the? 
plain, and they marched with inconceivable rapidity. 

The governor ordered the three alarm guns to be fired. Immediately one saw 
the poor cottagers of the plain trooping in crowds into the town, bringing with 
them their cattle and furniture, and shedding tears of rage and despair at the sight 
of their harvests blazing in all directions. 

The poor men encamped as they best could ; and after sending their women and 
children into the fort, all able to bear arms rushed to the barricades. 

Terror reigned throughout the town; nothing was heard but sighs and lamen- 
tation ; and night came to add horror to the situation. 

Strong patrols paraded the streets incessantly ; and at times hardy vaqtieros^ 
gliding like serpents through the obscurity, ventured two or three hundred paces 
from the walls, to assure themselves that no immediate danger threatened. 

Things remained in this state till about two in the morning, when, in the midst 
of the mournful silence brooding over the town, a slight noise, scarcely perceptible 
at first, was heard. It grew louder every moment, and all of a sudden, as if by 
enchantment, and without any one being able to guess how they got there, the 
Apaches crowned the barricades of the presidiOy brandishing flaming torches and 
utiering the vvar-whoop. 

For a moment the inhabitants thought the town was taken ; but Major Barnum, 
who commanded at this post, was too old a soldier to be deceived by the stratagem. 
At the moment the Apaches were about to cross the barricades, a weil-sustained 
fire opened suddenly upon them, and drove them from the intrenchments much 
faster than they had scaled them. 

The Mexicans charged with the bayonet : for one moment there was a frightful 
m^lecy from the midst of which rose cries of agony, maledictions, and the shai jj 
clang of steel crossing steel ; then the whites regained their position ; the Indians 
disappeared ; the town, illuminated for so short a time by the bktze of the torches, 
was again enveloped in darkness. 


3 » 


Stoneheari, 


This was the only attempt that night. Having failed in their bold coup-de~main^ 
the Indians would, in all probability, convert the attack into a blockade ; or they 
might retreat altogether, if their miscarriage had led them to despair of mastering it. 

But at daybreak this latter illusion vanished ; the Indians seemed to have no 
inclination to beat a retreat. 

The country presented a most afflicting spectacle ; everything was burnt down, 
and the disorder frightful. In one place a band of mounted Apaches were driving 
before them the horses and cattle they had stolen ; in another, nearer the town, 
and facing towards it, a strong body of warriors, with poised lances, watched the 
movements of the inhabitants of the presidio^ with the intention of repelling any 
sortie that might be attempted ; behind them, women and children were chasing 
the cattle, which were lowing with anger at being forced to quit the pastures ; here 
and there prisoners, men, women, and children, driven on by blows of the lance, 
lifted their hands in vain supplication, and painfully dragged themselves forward 
amidst their captors. Lastly, as far as the eye could see, long files of Indians were 
hastening up on every side, while others drove in the pickets, or built callis (huts) ; 
and the town was completely surrounded. 

Sangre dt Dios! ’ exclaimed the colonel, with an angry stamp; “those 
wretches have a traitor among them ; they have never made war in this fashion 
before.*’ 

“Hem!” said the major, pulling at his moustache; “ we shall have to tilt 
against tough rascals.” 

“ Yes,” replied the colonel ; “ and if succour does not arrive, I do not see the 
end.” 

“ Had, colonel. Car ail I am afraid we shall lose our hides here. Look ! there 
are more than three thousand of them, without counting those who are still coming 
and blackening the plain on all sides. But what is the meaning of this noise ? ” he 
added, as a trumpet sounded. 

Four sachems^ dressed in white, and preceded by an Indian bearing a white 
flag, had halted at half-gunshot from the first barricade. 

“What can this mean?” said the colonel ; “ they seem to demand a parley. 
Do they think I am fool enough to fall into the snare? Major, a hatful of grape 
for that group of pagans.” 

“ I think you are wrong, colonel, and' that it would be better to parley.” 

“You may be right, my good friend ; but who will be fool enough to risk his 
life among these lawless bandits ? ” 

“I, if you will permit me,” answered the major, 

“ You ! ” cried Don Jose, in astonishment. 

“ Yes ; is it not our duty to suffer no means to escape us by which we may sav 
the wretched people confided to our honour ? I am only one man ; my life is ot 
little importance.” 

The colonel stifled a sigh, pressed his old friend’s hand affectionately, and 
exclaimed, in a voice half choked with emotion : 

“ Go, since you insist upon it.” 

“Thanks,” said the major joyfully. And he turned with a firm step in the 
direction of the barricade# 


CHAPTER VII, 


THE ATTACK ON THE PRESIDIO. 

Major Barnum was unarmed : he was offering up his life, and would not take 
Lis sword, that he might have no pretext for defending himself 

When he had got within ear-shot, he halted. In his former campaign he 
had often had occasion to confer with the Apaches. 

What do you require, chiefs? Why have yon crossed the Rio Grande del 
Norte, and invaded our frontiers ? ” 

He said this in a loud voice, and saluting them with his hat, which he 
immediately replaced. 

“ Are you the man whom the pale-faces call Don Jose Kalbris ? ” asked one of 
the chiefs ; “ the man to whom they give the title of governor? ” 

“No; the governor may not quit his post. I am Major Barnum, second in 
command ; so you may report to me what brings you hither. ” 

The chiefs conferred together for an instant ; then planting their long lances i* 
the sand, they dashed forward on their horses . 

The latter, who had never taken his eyes off them, had divined their purpose^ 
but remained motionless, and testified no surprise. 

The Indiaas, who had intended by the suddenness of their action to throw the 
major off his guard, were secretly annoyed at his coolness, which they could not 
help admiring. 

“My father is brave,” said the one who was spokesman. 

“At my age,” replied the veteran, “one does not fear death.” 

“My father beats on his head the snows of many winters ; he must be one of 
the wisest chiefs of his nation. ” 

The major bowed modestly. 

“ Do not talk of me,” he said ; “we have met to discuss graver matters. Why 
have you demanded this interview ? ” 

“ Will not my fatheiTead us to the cowncil-fire of his nation?” said the warrior 
in insinuating tones. “ Is it proper for great sachems^ renowned warriors, to treat 
of important affairs on horseback ? ” 

“I understand your meaning, chief; but cannot comply with your desires. 
When a town is invested, no leader of the enemy can be admitted.” 

“ Does my father fear that we four should take the town?” said the Apache, 
laughing. 

“ It is not my custom to fear anything,” replied the major ; “ I tell you a tact of 


34 


Sioneheart, 


which you were ignorant, that is all. And now, if you wish to use this pretext 
to break off the interview, you can.” 

“ Oho ! my father is hasty for his age. Why break off the interview, when we 
have not even mentioned the object of it ? ” 

‘ ‘ Speak, then, and tell me what brings you here.” 

The sachems looked at each other, and exchanged a few words. Then the chief 
took up the word : 

*‘My father has seen the great army of the Apaches, and the nations their allies ? ” 

“I have,” replied the major carelessly. 

** And has my father, who is a learned pale-face, counted the warriors who 
compose it?” 

“Yes, as far as it was possible.” 

“Ah ! and huw many are there? ” 

“Upon my word, chief,” replied the major, with admirably counterfeited 
(ttnconcem, “ I must confess that we do not care how many of them there are.” 

“But still,” persisted the Indian, “at how many does my father count them?” 

“ How can I know? Eight or ten thousand, I dare say.” 

The chiefs were astounded at the indifference the major displayed for numbers 
thrice their force. 

“ And my father is not frightened at the number of warriors united under 
one chief ? ” 

The wonder of the sachems had not escaped the major. 

“ Why should I be frightened ? Has not my nation conquered greater numbers ? ” 

“ It is possible,’ said the chief, biting his lips ; “but this time you will not 
conquer.” 

“ Who can tell ? Is that what you came to parley about, chief? ” 

“ No ; it is not that Let my father be patient.” 

“ Speak, then, and have done with it. One never knows how to get on with 
all you Indians.” 

“ The army of the great nations is camped before the J>residio to obtain satisfac- 
tion for all the wrongs the pale-faces have done the Indians.” 

“What are you talking about? Explain yourself clearly; and, 6rst of all, 
what is your pretext for thus invading our frontiers, without previously declaring 
war ? Have we broken the treaties we made with you ? Have we not always 
been generous to the Indians who claimed our protection ? ” 

“ Why does my father pretend to be ignorant of our just reasons for war with 
the pale-faces?” replied the Apache. “My father knows that we have foi 
centuries been at war with the Long-Knives, who dwell on the other side of the 
mountains. Why has my father’s nation, which assumes to be at peace with us, 
made treaties with them ? ” 

“ Chief, you are only seeking a quarrel ; but that does not signify. I would 
rather you had told me frankly that your wish was to pillage and steal our horses 
and cattle. You should be at war with the Comaiiches, if you really meant what 
you say. Therefore, chief, mock me no more, but proceed to facts. What is it 
you demand ? ” 

The chief burst out laughing. 

“My father is cunning,” he said. “Listen: this land belongs to us: we 
will have it. The white ancestors of my father had no right to it.” 

“That pretext is, at all events, specious ; for my ancestors bought this land 
from one of your sachems.^' 

“ The chiefs in assembly round the tree of the Master of liift have determined to 
return to the great white chief, without reserve, all the articles formerly given to 
^ iackisn in exchange for the land, and to resume the country belonging to them.” 


The Attack on the Presidio, 




** Is that all you were deputed to tell me ? ” 

“It is all,” said the chief^ bending his head. 

“ And how much time,” answered the major, “do the chiefs allow the govemof’ 
of the presidio 1 ” 

“Two hours.” 

■“Very well,” said the major coolly. “ And if the governor refuses, what will 
my brothers do ? ” 

“The replied the Apache, emphatically, “have determined to resume 

the ownership of their territory.” 

“Ah ! ” said the major ; “before you obtain that result, all the whites in the 
presidio will have been killed in its defence. But it is not for me to discuss the 
matter with you. I will carry your demands to the governor, precisely as you 
have made them ; and to-morrow, at sunrise, you shall have your answer. 
Hostilities must be suspended until then.” 

“ No ; it is for you to stop them. We cannot stay here inactive ; so be on 
your guard.” 

“Thanks for your frani;ness, chief,” replied the major. “I am happy at 
meeting an Indian whods not altogether a rascal, (jood-bye.” 

“Farewell,” said the chiefs courteously. 

All were struck with admiration at the coolness of the veteran. 

The major retired as slowly as he had come ; the colonel awaited him at the 
barricade with the greatest anxiety. The long interview had filled him with 
uneasiness. When the major reached the barricade, he hastened to join him. 

“ Well ? ” said he impatiently. 

“ They are only seeking to gain time in order to execute one of their devilries.” 

“ What is the sum of their demands ? ” 

“ Their pretensions are absurd, and they know it ; for they sneered when they 
laid them before me. They pretend that the sachem who ceded this territory, 
two hundred years ago, had no right to sell it. They demand that we should 
surrender it to them in twenty-four hours ; if not — then follow the usual threats. 
Ah ! ” said the major; with an ironical smile, “ I forgot to tell you, colonel, that 
they pretend to be ready to restore everything the sachem received for the land 
he sold.” 

The colonel shrugged his shoulders in disdain. 

“ The demons are mad, ” said he, “or else they are trying to lull us into security.” 

“ What do you think of doing ? ” asked the major. 

“ Redouble my vigilance, my good friend ; for I have no doubt we shall soon 
come to blows.” 

“You go back to the fort ; I will take the command of the advanced post. It 
is most important, in case of a check, that our communication should not be cut off.” 

“ I will leave you at liberty to act, my dear major ; I am sure you will do your 
best.” 

The two veterans separated, after shaking hands warmly. The colonel returned 
to the fort, while the major actively bestirred himself. 

The garrison of the old presidio consisted chiefly of vaqueros and teperos, — people, 
we confess, on whose fidelity the major could only moderately rely. But the stout 
old soldier locked the apprehensions that tormented him up in his heart, and feigneci 
entire confidence in these fellows. 

The day passed over quietly enough. The Apaches, buried like moles behind 
their intrenchments, seemed determined not to quit them. The sentinels watchec 
vigilantly at the barriers art^ barricades which closed the suburb. The major, 
reassured by this apparent tranquillity, hoped that the Indians would not assume th< 
offensive before the term proposed for the receipt of the governor’s answer ; and 


3 ^ 


Stcneheart. 


overwhelmed with fatigue, retired to a house close to the barricade, to snatch a few 
minutes of repose. 

Certain of our old acquaintances were amongst the defenders of the suburb : 
Pablito, El Verado, Tonillo, and Carlocho. The worthy vaquerosy since the 
appearance of the Indians, had given such undeniable proofs of fidelity, that the 
major, as a reward for their good conduct, had confided to them the most advanced 
barricade. 

A few minutes after sunset, these four men were togethei at the foot of 
the barricade, talking. A dozen more rascals, grouped a few paces off, were waiting 
the result of their council. 

At last they rose, and their colloquy terminated. 

“ Well, then,” said Carlocho, by way of wind-up, ‘‘it is settled for ten o’clock ? ” 

“ For ten o’clock,” peremptorily replied El Zapote ; “ a man can only stick to 
his word. We have been nobly paid, and must fulfil our promise.” 

“True,” said the others, thoroughly convinced ; “ the loss would be too great.” 

“ I should think so ! ” exclaimed El Zapote ; “ only think, my boys, five-and- 
twenty ounces ! ” 

The bandits grinned like hyenas over a corpse. 

The major, lying half upright on a butacca^ slept the restless sleep of a man whose 
mind is preoccupied by affairs of great moment ; when all of a sudden he felt himself 
rudely shaken, and a voice shouted into his ears : 

“Rise, major, rise ! We are betrayed ! The vaqturos have given up the barricade 
to the Apaches, and the Indians are in the place.” 

The officer bounded to his feet, seized his sword, and rushed out of doors, 
followed by the Mexican soldier who had awakened him. 

At a single glance, the major recognized the truth of the disastrous news reported 
to him. El Zapote and his comrades had not only surrendered the barrier to the 
Apaches, but had even joined them. 

The situation was very critical. The Mexicans, disheartened by this shameful 
defection, fought without energy or order, dreading further treachery. 

The Apaches and the vaqueros howled like demons, and charged furiously on the 
demoralized defenders of the presidio. 

It was a horrid spectacle to witness, this homicidal strife, illumined by the lurid 
reflection of the houses fired by the Indians to light up their victory. The war- 
whoop of the Apaches mingled with the cries of agony of the Mexicans they were 
massacring and the awful roaring of the flames, fanned by the frequent squalls. 

The major threw himself resolutely into the thickest of the fight, calling the 
garrison around him, and exciting them by voice and gesture. 

The appearance of the commandant of the presidio produced an electrical effect on 
the Mexicans. Animated by his example, they formed around him, and replied by 
a well-directed fire to the attacks of their ferocious foes. 

The vaqturosy brought to a stand by the point of the bayonet, ignominiously fled. 

Thanks to the energetic action of the major, the fight was fairly renewed ; but 
Barnum was a soldier of too much experience to allow himself to be deceived by a 
factitious success. He felt that any attempt to hold the suburb would be madness ; 
he therefore only thought how to make good his retreat in the best possible order, 
and to bring off the women and children. 

C'-alling his boldest and most resolute men about him, he formed them into a 
body to hold the Indians in check, while the non-combatants embarked and 
crossed the river. 

The m^lee grew still more frightful. A desperate hand-to-hand combat ensued 
between whites and redskins; the former fighting for the safety of their families, 
the latter in the hope of an immense booty. 


The Attack on the Presidio, 


tr 


But the Mexicans, encouraged by the heroic devotion of their commander, only 
retreated step by step, resisting with the energy of that despair which performs 
prodigies, and in desperate circumstances trebles the strength of man. 

This handful of brave men, scarcely numbering a hundred and fifty, kept in 
check for three hours, and without allowing themselves to be broken, nearly two 
thousand Indians, falling one after the other at their allotted posts, in order to save 
their wives and children. 

At last the final boats, full of wounded and non-combatants, quitted the suburb ; 
the Mexicans uttered a shout of joy, charged the Apaches once more, and, under 
the orders of the major, — who, like an old wounded lion, seemed to abandon the 
fight with regret, — commenced their retreat. 

They soon reached the river. Here the savages were constrained to fall back in 
their turn, being decimated by the showers of grape poured upon their dense ranks 
by the guns of the fortress. 

This successful diversion permitted the scanty survivors of the heroic Mexican 
phalanx to enter the boats, and retire without further molestation, carrying with 
them two or three prisoners. The fight was at an end, after having lasted 
five hours. The Apaches had only conquered through the treachery of the 
vaqueros. 

The colonel received his friend at the landing-place, and congratulated him on 
his admirable defence, which, in his eyes, was as good as a victory. 

Then, without losing time, the two officers took measures to complete the 
defence of the place, by ordering the construction of strong intrenchments on the 
bank of the river, and the erection of two flanking batteries of six guns each. 

The capture of the old presidio by the Indians, through the treachery of the 
vaqueros^ was an immense loss to the Mexicans, whose communications with the 
numerous haciendas on that bank were cut off. Luckily, the colonel, foreseeing 
a result almost inevitable from the want of troops at his disposal, had withdrawn 
the whole of the population of the suburb into San-Lucar. The houses had been 
gutted, horses and cattle carried off, and the boats moored under the batteries of 
the fort, where they were in safety. 

It is true the Indians were masters of the suburbs ; but the success had cost 
them greater losses than the possession of it was worth. After all, the Mexicans 
had only lost an insignificant piece of ground, scarcely worth defence ; for the 
old presidio was not the key of the place. 

The Mexicans thus almost congratulated themselves on the loss of a position 
nearly useless to them in the present state of affairs, and the defence of w'hich 
could only cost them many valuable lives ; while the Apaches asked each other 
sadly what good the conquest of the suburb, had done them, in return for the loss 
of more than five hundred of their bravest warriors who had fallen. 

Two vaqueros^ who had been thrown from their horses, had been taken prisoners 
by the Mexicans during their retreat. 

The colonel ordered a court-martial to assemble, commanded two high gibbets 
to be erected a little in advance of the new intrenchments along the river, and had 
them hung in the sight of the whole population and of their companions. 

Don Jose Kalbris was not naturally cruel ; but in this case he justly thought he 
ought to make an example, in order to intimidate such as might have the inclina- 
tion to imitate them. An edict, fixed at the foot of each gibbet, announced that 
'the same fate awaited every revolted vaquero. 

While this was doing, evening closed in ; and the Indians, to annoy the whites, 
amused themselves by setting fire to the suburb they had taken the night before. 
The immense Volume of flame produced by the conflagration threw fantastic 
shadows over the camp of the Apaches and the town of San-Lucar, whose 


38 


Stonehearf. 


miserable inhabitants, plunged in the stupor of grief, knew they had no mercy to 
expect from foes like these. 

The colonel seemed made of iron ; he did not take a moment’s rest, but visited 
the posts continually. 

He and the major had just entered the fort, after making a final round. The 
night had passed, and the Indians had retreated to their camp. 

“ Well, major,” said the colonel, “ you see how it is; there is no use in our trying 
to blind each other. It is only a question of time with us; whether we shall be 
taken to-morrow or in a week, no one can say.” 

“ Hm !” said the major; ‘‘when the last moment has come, we shall always 
have the resource of shutting ourselves in the fort, and blowing it and ourselves to 
the devil. ” 

“ Unluckily, we have not even that resource.” 

“How so?” 

“ Why, we old soldiers might blow ourselves up easily, and ought to do it; but 
we cannot condemn women and children to such a cruel fate.” 

“Ti*ue; but I have it! Although we cannot blow ourselves up, I can always 
blow out my brains.” 

“You have not even that consolation, my good (riend. Is it not our duty to 
set an example to the poor people cooped up here, and protect them while we 
can ? ” 

The major made no reply to this argument. 

“ But,” said he, after a pause, “how is it we have received no news from the 
•apital ? ” 

‘ ‘ Ah, my friend, out there they have probably other things than us to 
think of.” 

“ I will not believe it.” 

At this moment a servant opened the door, and announced : 

“ Don Torribio di Quiroga ! ” 

The two men shuddered, without being able to account for their emotion. 

Don Torribio entered. He wore the magnificent uniform of a colonel in the 
Mexican service, and on his left arm the ribbons of an aide-de-camp. He bowed 
respectfully to the two officers. 

“ Is that you, Don Torribio?” said the colonel. 

“ I suppose it is,” said the former, smiling. 

“ When I last saw you, you were about to undertake a long journey.** 

“ From which I have just returned.” 

“ But the uniform you wear ? ” 

“Good heavens, Caballeros ! I wa^ tired of being treated in the provinces as a 
nobody, a kind of useless ninny. I threw off everything of that sort, and have 
become a man of the world.” 

“ Then you are — ? ” asked Don Jose. 

“An officer like yourself, colonel, — of the same rank; and, moreover, aide-de- 
camp to the governor of the State.” 

“ It is wonderful 1 ” said the colonel. 

“ Why so? Nothing could be more simple.” 

The major had taken no part in this conversation. When Don Torribio entered, a 
strange suspicion had seized him. 

“ I confess,” said the colonel, “ that I was a thousand miles from thinking — ” 

“What, pray? That I should turn officer? You see, you were wrong; and so 
much the more so, since I have been deputed by the general commanding th€ 
province to bring you a message, which I am sure will be of great service to you ifl 
the present conjuncture. ” 


TTu Attack on the Presidio, 


39 


He drew forth a large folded paper, sealed with the Mexican arms, and presented 
it to the colonel. 

Don Jose hastened to take it. 

“ With your permission,” said he, and hurriedly broke the seal, and read the 
missive. 

“Aha !” he exclaimed; “four hundred and fifty men ! I did not expect so 
strong a reinforcement.” 

“The genera] feels greatly concerned for the presidioy'^ said Don Torribio ; “he 
will spare no sacrifice to retain it.” 

“ Vive Dios I caballero, with such help I care nothing for the Indians.” 

“It seems to me that they will not arrive a whit too soon,” said Don Torribio, 
with a sneer. 

“ Canarios ! it is just in time ; but now we shall have some fun.” 

“ I hope so,” said the other, while an indescribable smile curled his lips. 

“And your men ? ” asked the governor. 

“ Will be here in an hour at the latest.” 

“ I'o what corps do they belong ? ” 

“To none in particular ; they are guerilleros^^ (irregular troops). 

“ Hm I ” said the colonel, showing a little disappointment; “I should have 
preferred other troops. But never mind; if you like, we will go out to meet 
them.” 

“ 1 am at your orders, colonel.” 

“ Shall I go with you ? ” asked the major. 

“ Nothing could be better,” said Don Torribio. 

The colonel hesitated a moment. 

“ No,” said he, at kst ; “remain here. One cannot tell what may happen, and 
somebody must be here to act for me in my absence. Come, Don Torribio.” 

With a sigh of satisfaction, the major threw himself back again on the sofa from 
which he had risen.' 

The two men went out. Just as they were mounting, they encountered a horse^ 
man, who came up at full speed. 

“ Estevan Diaz ! ” muttered Don Torribio to Himself ; ''please Heaven he ha£ 
not recognized me.” 


CHAPTER vnt^ 


DISGRACE. 

As we have already said, Don Tovribio had rapidly quitted the Hacienda d^ 
Cormillo in company with the mysterious stranger whom he had met in such an 
extraordinar}^ manner. 

Their journey was not long. At the close of a quarter of an hour, the stranger 
pulled up. 

“ It is useless to take you further before I know what I have to expect from you#” 

Don Torribio had halted at the same time as the unknown. 

“ I think you are making a mistake, caballero,” said he, drydy, 

“ In what way, if you please, sefior ? ” said the other in a sneering tone# 

“ I am going to put you in possession of a few facts, which will put us on a 
level.” 

** Let us hear them, caballero ; I am all attention.” 

“ In the first place,” said Don Torribio firmly, “before we go any further, let 
me give you a piece of advice.” 

“ Advice is always useful : if yours is good, I shall profit by it ; of that be 
certain.” 

“You will be right. I am unaware whether you know me, but be sure of this : 
I am not easily frightened ; and if, for some unknown reason, you have led me 
into an ambush, I warn you that, at the first suspicious movement you make, I 
will blow your brains out.” 

“ Good ! You are a man after my own heart ; I see clearly we shall come to 
an understanding.” 

“ Perhaps so. But as it is not I who have come to seek you out, I demand, 
in the first place, that you give me a clear explanation, without prevarication or 
circumlocution. ” 

The stranger shrugged his shoulders. 

“Is it not enough for you to know that I am in a position to serve you 
effectually?” 

“I neither understand what you say, nor to what you allude,” said Dod 
T orribio haughtily. 

“ Aha ! ” said the other, laughing grimly ; “is that the way you answer me?** 

“ Why should I give you a different answer ? On what plea, supposing I havv 
a secret, do you pretend to search into it ? ” 

“ Because your enemy is mine also. Do you understand me now!** 


Disgrace. 


41 


‘‘No more than I did before. If you have nothing else to say, we had better 
break off our conference and part. ” 

The stranger made a gesture of impatience. 

“ One word more, Don Torribio Quiroga. The man whom you hate, whose 
death you have already plotted, is called Don Fernando Carril. That man, who 
for a long time has crossed your path at every turn, counteracting your plans and 
ruining your hopes, has overthrown you in all your rencounters ; your very life 
belongs to him ; he has taken all, even to the heart of her you love.” 

Don Torribio had listened with mingled pain and anger to these revelations. 

“ Yes,” said he, clenching his hand with rage, “yes, you are well informed, 
I care not whether you have gleaned your knowledge from heaven or hell. This 
man is my evil genius, always and for ever crossing my path, and overthrowing 
my most cherished aspirations. I would sacrifice my whole fortune to avenge 
myself on him. ” 

“ I thought we should end by coming to an understanding.” 

“ Do not mock me, senor ; my soul is deeply troubled. I could have forgiven 
tMs man his insolent good luck, his success in the world, where he thrives at my 
expense, the heaps of gold he wins with such proud indifference — I say, I could 
have forgiven him all this, if he had not destroyed my sweetest hopes in tearing 
from me the heart of her I love.” 

“If you choose, I will rid you of Don Fernando, and deliver Dona Hermosa 
into your hands.” 

“ You will do that?” cried Don Torribio. 

“ I will do it,” briefly responded the stranger. “ Before two days are over, you 
shall have your revenge on both. But it all depends upon you.” 

“Ah ! if that is all,” said the other, “I will do all you ask, I will agree to all 
your demands, to the utmost of my power.” 

“Take heed, Don Torribio ; we are about to enter into a compact — a compact 
the conditions of which you must fulfil at all hazards.” 

“ Whatever they may be, I will fulfil them, if you secure my twofold revenge.” 

“Swear to me by all you hold most sacred in this world, that, whatever may 
happen, whatever determination you may arrive at hereafter, you will never divulgt 
what is going to pass. ” 

“ I swear to you, dfede caballero ” (on the honour of a gentleman), “ senor.” 

“Just now you asked me who I am : I am the Tigercat ! ” 

Don Torribio shuddered involuntarily on hearing this redoubtable name. 

“Very good,” said he ; “the name you reveal is a guarantee of success to my 
vengeance.” 

“Yes,” said the bandit, chuckling, “I dare say it is; my reputation has been 
established a long time on the frontiers. Now ponder well what you are about to 
hear — reflect seriously on what I am going to propose — before you answer ; for, I 
repeat once more, I will compel you to act up to the conditions when once you 
have accepted them.” 

“Speak,” he replied impatiently; “have I not told you I am longing for 
revenge ? ” 

“ Hear me, then. I am at this moment preparing an expedition against San- 
Lucar, of which I intend to gain possession at any price. For certain reasons, 
which need not be mentioned, I have assembled several tribes of the Apaches and 
a considerable number of vaquerosy who are concealed not far from hence, and 
only await my signal to fall, like tigers thirsting for blood, upon the pueblo^ as it is 
gorged with wealth. An active and intelligent ally, upon whom I counted to 
execute this bold coub-de-nmin.. has deserted me at the last moineat. You alon« 
oan replace him.’ 


Siomheart, 


4is 


“What is this?” exclaimed Don Torribio, shuddering; “it is treason you 
propose ! ” 

“ No,” replied the other, in a deep voice, “it is revenge ! — consummate ven- 
geance, by which I slmll confound your enemies.” 

“ What ! I, Don Torribio Quifoga, belonging to one of the oldest families in the 
country ; I am to associate — ” 

He hesitated and paused. The Tigercat laughed. 

“ With bandits and itedskins, you would say, and wage war on your own 
countrymen. Why hesitate to pronounce the words ? As for me, those qualifica- 
tions have no value. I offer you revenge on your countiymen, who have become 
your enemies in siding with your adversary. You are about to engage in a duel. 
In a duel, all feints to kill your opponent are lawful. But these are my conditions, 
and I will not alter them a tittle.” 

A long silence ensued between the two men. The night was dark ; the wind 
howled mournfully through the branches of the trees ; nameless noises passed them 
by, borne on the wings of the breeze. 

At last Don Torribio answered in husky tones : 

“ I demand forty-eight hours to come to my determination. I will make one more 
attempt with her I love. You see I am frank with you. The line of conduct I 
adopt will depend upon the result.” 

“Be it so,” said the Tigercat ; “ it is better thus. Your co-operation will be 
more efficacious, and your will firmer, when your last illusion has been torn from 
you. Go, then ! ” 

“Thanks ! In case I want to communicate to you my resolve, w.here shall I 
find you ? ” 

“ I will await you at the Baranca del Frayle ” (the Friars inn). 

“Agreed! God grant,” he added, with a sigh, “that fate may not force me to 
be there I ” 

The Tigercat laughed aloud ; and, without replying, spurred his horse, and 
disappeared. 

We have already related how the old freebooter acted to keep his promise to Don 
Torribio. 

The desertion among the Apaches, brought about by the influence of the 
atyianizin, on the night when the Tigercat left them to repair to the rendezvous 
arranged with Stoneheart, had not been as successful as the sorcerer had hoped. 

The Tigercat had not even taken the trouble to punish the amantzin himself — 
the Zopilote had taken care of that ; and the summary execution had produced an 
excellent effect upon those rugged and savage minds, which brute force alone can 
tame. 

Nevertheless, he had no wish to damp the renewed devotion shown him by the 
redskins ; and although his final dispositions were not yet made, he assembled all 
the Indians able to bear arms of whom he could dispose, crossed the Rio Grande 
del Norte ; and these vultures fell like a devastating hurricane on the luckless Indian 
■frontier — burning, pillaging, slaughtering, and passing like a horrible plague over 
^hose magnificent plains which they left behind them a desert. 

Don Torribio Quiroga was one of the first to learn the tiding of the Indian 
invasion. The news gave him an indescribable feeling of mingled joy and regret. 

Up to that time a prey to a thousand conflicting feelings, he now resolved t® 
^ttle his doubts at once, and to learn positivitely what he had to hope or fear from 
Dona Hermosa and her father. Towards nine o’clock in the morning, he calied 
for his horse, and, in spite of the danger he would certainly incur in the short space 
between the presidio and the hacienda, he managed to leave Saa-Lucar, on wliiek 
the Indians were rapidly moving, and ijode at full speed towards El Cormilio* 


Disgrace, 


43 


About half way to the hacienda his horse started at several dead bodies lying 
across the road, riddled with wounds ; but he was too preoccupied by his own 
thoughts to pay much attention to the ominous rencounter. As he rode past, he 
cast a careless look at the corpses, and continued his road. 

Either designedly, or because they knew the futility of an attack on the hacienda^ 
Ihe Apaches had deviated from their furious course, so as not to approach it. When 
Don Torribio arrived, he found it in a perfect state of defence : the gates shut and 
barricaded with care, the windows blocked and loopholed ; and he saw the bayonets 
of the numerous garrison gleaming above the walls. 

The sentries gave admittance to Don Torribio, but not before they had questioned 
and recognized him. A peo7i received and conducted him to the drawing-room. 
He found tliree persons there — Don Pedro di Luna, Na Manuela, and Don Estevan 
Diaz, who, pale and bloody, was lying upon a sofa, apparently asleep. His mother, 
seated beside him, watched his slumbers with that tender solicitude which belongs 
to mothers only. 

Don Torribio took a fev/ hesitating steps forward, and stopped in surprise when 
he perceived that no one seemed to notice his presence. At last Don Pedro raised 
his eyes, and, looking at him coldly, said, “ Oh ! is it you, cousin ? How does it 
happen that you are here to-day ? ” 

“ Had I no other motive,” replied Don Torribio, “ the lively interest I take in 
your family would have made it my duty to be here now.” 

“I thank you, cousin,” said Don Pedro still more coldly, “for the proof of 
sympathy you are kind enough to give us. But you might have remembered that 
El Cormillo is in a perfect state of defence, and that we run no danger behind these 
walls, before you exposed yourself to be assassinated on the road, as has nearly 
happened to our poor Don Estevan.” 

“ Has he been set upon?” asked Don Torribio. 

“ Yes,” diyly replied the haciendero ; “ he and another person, who, less lucky 
than Estevan, is most likely dead. Did you not know it ? ” 

“ I ! ” exclaimed Don Torribio ; “ how should I know?” 

“ Excuse me, cousin ; I am so troubled at what has occurred, that I hardly know 
what I am saying.” 

Don Torribio bowed, and then replied ; 

“ May I not have the pleasure of offering my homage to my charming 
cousin ? ” 

“You must excuse her; she has retired to her room. The poor child is 
distracted by the late extraordinary events.” 

‘ ‘ I am the more grieved at this indisposition, as I wished to have some conver- 
sation with her. ” 

“ wSo much the worse, cousin; so much the worse. The time is ill chosen to 
speak of business, as you must allow, when the Indians are at our gates.” 

“True, cousin; I acknowledge the justice of your remark. Unfortunately, I 
find myself placed in such circumstances, that if I might persist — ” 

“ It would be useless, my dear Don Torribio,” said Don Pedro, interrupting 
him. “ I have the honour to tell you that my daughter cannot have ttie pleasure 
of seeing you to-day.” 

“Then pray, cousin, excuse my inopportune intrusion. Perhaps I shall be 
more lucky another day.” 

“ That is it; some other day, when we have got rid of these cursed pagans, and 
have no longer a horrible death in perspective.” 

“And now,” said Don Torribio, with ill-suppressed rage, “as I perceive that, 
owing to your abstraction doubtless, you have not even offered me a seat, cousin, 

I have no moiie to do than take my leave of you.” 


AA 


' Stonelieart, 


The haciendero did not seem to observe the tone of ill-humour in which these 
words were uttered. 

“Good-bye, then, Don Torribio,” said he, “and a lucky journey. Above all 
things, be prudent, and do not travel with your eyes shut. The roads are infested 
by brigands.” 

“ I thank you for your advice, and will follow it,” he replied, turning to leave 
the room. 

J list at this moment Don Estevan — who, as we have said, appeared to be sleep- 
ing — opened his eyes, and perceived Don Torribio. 

“ Mother,” he said, “ and you, Don Pedro, do. me the favour to leave me alon 
with this Caballero. I have a few words to say to him.” 

“To me, senor?” asked Don Torribio, in a tone so haughty it sounded like 
disdain. 

“To yourself, Senor Don Torribio Quiroga,” replied the wounded man. 

“ You are very weak, my son, for a conversation with any one,” said Manuela. 

“ Perhaps, my friend,” said Don Pedro, “ it would be more prudent to defer it 
for a few days. 

“ No,” was the reply ; “it must be to-day.” 

“Just as you please, headstrong !” said Don Pedro. “We will go into the 
ante-room, where we shall be within call. Come, Manuela. ” 

Don Estevan kept his eyes fixed on the door till it closed behind them ; then he 
turned to Don Torribio. 

“ Come nearer, senor, that you may be better able to hear what I have to say 
to you.” 

“ I am listening to you, senor, and must beg you not to delay your communica- 
tion.” 

“ You shall have it. I warn you, that I tore the mask from one of the bandits 
wl^''Uacked us, and recognized him.” 

am at a loss to understand,” said Don Torribio. 

“ Oh ! you do not understand, senor ! It is as I expected. I suppose, likewise, 
you do not know the name of the person who accompanied me, and on whom the 
vaqueros fell with such fury ? ” 

“I am perfectly ignorant as to who he was,” said Don Torribio, quite un- 
moved. 

“ Better and better ! Learn, then, that it was Don Fernando Carril who was 
killed.” 

“Don Fernando Carril ! — killed ! ” exclaimed the latter, stupefied. 

Don Estevan smiled disdainfully. 

“Listen once more to this,” he continued, in threatening tones. “If Don 
Fernando is not brought to this hacienda within twenty-four hours, I will reveal the 
name of his assassin. I think you understand me this time ? ” And he sank, half- 
fainting, on his couch. 

Don Torribio remained a moment, annihilated with the words he had heard ; 
hut, immediately recovering his presence of mind, he quickly left the hacienda, 
»nd galloped into the plains, muttering as he rode : 

‘ ‘ The Tigercat was right : there is nothing left for me but to seek the Baranca 
del Frayle.” 


CHAPTER rx. 


THE PRISONER. 

We miwt now gi.) back, and explain to bur readers what happened after the fall of 
Don Fernando Carril. 

When his hand was no longer able to raise his sword, and he had fallen by the 
side of his companion, the men in masks— who had been chaiy of approaching too 
near him, out of respect for the blade he wielded so well, as proved by the bodies 
of four bandits lying on the sand beside him — rushed all at once upon him. 

filon Fernando Carril lay on his back, showing no signs of life. A deadly pallor 
overspread his noble features ; his half-opened lips disclosed his clenched teeth ; 
blood was flowing in torrents from the many wounds he had received ; and his 
hand still clasped the weapon with which he had so long held his assailants 
at bay. 

“ Caspita!'^ cried one, looking at him attentively ; “here is a young gentleman 
who is seriously hurt. What will the master say ? ” 

“What would you have him say, Senor Carlocho?” said another; “he 
defended himself like a lion. It is his own fault. Look ! we have lost four men.’* 

“A pretty loss indeed ! I would rather he had killed six than be in the state 
he is now.” 

“ The devil ! ” muttered the other bandit ; “that is no compliment to us, you 
know.” 

“That will do ; that will do. Help me to bind up his wounds as well as we 
can, and lose no time about it.” 

Without further discussion, the bandits hastened to obey the orders of Carlocho. 
Don Fernando’s wounds were bound up somehow ; he was thrown across the 
horse of the gaucho, who seemed to be leader of the expedition, and the party 
set off at full gallop, without further heed of those who had fallen in the struggle. 

After a very rapid ride of two hours, they reached an abandoned rancho^ 

Two men were awaiting their arrival with impatience. 

These two men were Tigercat and Don Torribio. 

“Well ! ” shouted the former, as soon as he saw them, 
i “ It is done ! ” said Carlocho laconically, 
j Don Fernando showed no signs of life. 

I “ Is he dead ? ” asked the Tigercat. 
i Carlocho shook his head. 

^ He is hardly belter than dead,” he rci^lkA. 


46 


Stoneheart, 


“Wretch!” cried the Indian chief, in a fury; “is it thus you execute my 
orders ? Did I not command you to take him alive ? ” 

“ H’m I ” said Carlocho ; I only wish you had been there to see ! An incar- 
nate demon, who, armed only with a thin rapier, withstood us for more than 
twenty minutes, and only gave in after killing four of our bravest ! ” 

The d'igercat smiled disdainfully. 

“You are all cowards,” he said. 

And turning his back on the vaquero, he went up to Don Fernando. 

“ Is he dead ? ” he asked of Don Torribio. 

“ No,” replied the Mexican ; “ but nearly so.” 

“So much the worse,” muttered the old chief. “I would give a good deal 
for his recovery.” 

Don Torribio looked at him with astonishment. 

“ Of what importance is the life of ibis man to us? ” he said. “ Was he not 
your enemy ? ” • 

“ The very reason why I do not wish him to die.” 

“ I do not understand you.” 

“I have devoted my life to the accomplishment of an idea; therefore I no 
longer belong to myself, and am bound to offer up my hate to my idea.” 

“ I admit that, up to a certain point : but how is it, then, that you have laid a ^ 
trap for this man, who, according to your own account, is a traitor?” 

“Are men always to be harshly judged, even by those who are most intimate 
with them ? ” said the old chief with a bitter smile. “ What is it to me that the 
man may be a traitor ? The death of this man, obscurely slain in ambuscade, 
will do more to frustrate my plans than you imagine. His blood be upon your 
head ! It is you who ordered this murder.” 

“I ! ” replied Don Torribio. “ You are mad !” 

The Tigercat looked at his new ally with a stare of surprise, shrugged his 
.shoulders, and whistled a Mexican segnedilla. It was evident that Don Torribio 
had not understood a word of what had been uttered by this singular man. 

“ Pooh !” said he ; “ what does one, more or less, signify ? ” 

The Indian chief stooped over the body of the wounded man, and examined it 
carefully. The eyes were closed, and the features had the paleness and rigidity of 
death. 

After looking at the body attentively, the old chief drew a knife from his girdle, 
held the blade for two or three minutes across the mouth, withdrew it again, and 
examined it. He thought it was slightly tarnished ; then he knelt down by Don 
Fernando, seized his left arm ripped up the sleeve, and, having felt for the vein, . 
pricked it with the delicate point of his knife. 

Then followed an instant of anxious suspense. The looks of all were fixed on 
the wounded man. This attempt would be the last ; if it did not succeed, all 
was over : he knew of no other means to recall him to life. The vaqueroi 
continued their friction with rum. 

At the puncture made by the chiefs knife, there appeared at last a dark speck ; • 
little by little it increased in size, till it grew into a black point, which finally 
became a bead of jet : this trembled for a moment, and then fell rolling down the 
arm, pressed forward by another which succeeded it, and immediately made room 
for a third ; then the blood grew less black and less thick, and finally gushed out 
in a long vermilion stream. 

The Tigercat could not repress a shout of triumph ; Don Fernando was saved. 

The Indian chief rose, after binding up Don Fernando’s arm, and signed to 
Pablito to follow him into another compartment of the ratuho^ requesting D«l 
Torribio to remain for a time where he was. 


The Prisoner. 


47 


Without waiting for the question which the vaquero was about to ask, and which 
lie saw playing about his lips, the chief began to speak with a feverish haste, 
lietraying his secret agitation. 

“You see what has happened,” he said. 

“ But you yourself willed it so ! ” said Pablito. 

“ Yes ; I did will it ; and I thank God for having spared me this odioui 
crime ! ” 

“ If you are satisfied, all will go well.” 

“ But here is another matter. Remember this : Don Torribio must be kept in 
the dark. To all the world, and to this man in particul-ar, Don Fernando i" 
dead.” 

“ Speak on ; I think I understand you.” 

“Don Fernando’s wounds, though many, are not severe. The loss of blood, 
and the speed with which he was brought hither, are the sole causes of the lethargy 
into which he has fallen.” 

“ Good. Now, what am I to do ? ” 

“ He must not see me.” 

“Very good ; nothing can be easier.” 

“ Nor must he recognize you.” 

“That will be more difficult ; he knows me welL** 

“It is most important.” 

“ I will try.” 

“ And now, this is what you have to do.” 

“ I am all attention.” 

“ I must leave this place immediately ; my presence is required elsewhere. As 
for you, you will have Don Fernando carried to the presidio.' ' 

“To ilne presidio V' exclaimed Pablito, astonished. 

“ Yes ; it is the safest place,” said the chief ; “ you will take him to my house. 
He must not leave it on any pretence ; above all, he must not know he is at the 
presidio. ” 

“ Is that all ? ” 

“ It is. Only remember you are answerable to me for him.” 

“ Very well. At your orders I will produce him, alive or dead/ 

“Alive ! His life is precious to me.” 

“ Then I will do my best.” 

“ And now, Pablito, be honest with me. Can I trust you? ” 

“ Well,” said Pablito, “ since you are so much concerned about such a wretched 
affair, I will answer for your prisoner.” 

“Then farewell, and thanks,” said the Tigercat ; “ above all, remember to report 
to me to-night, in Don Torribio’s presence, that his enemy is dead.” 

“ Rely upon me for that.” 

“No, no,” muttered the old chief to himself ; “he- must not die: his life is too 
necessary for the accomplishment of my revenge.” 

Pie rejoined Don Torribio, who had grown impatient. Without exchanging a 
w'ord, the two mounted the magnificent mustangs that were waiting for them, and 
disappeared amongst ffie foliage. 

Pablito, twisting his moustache in ill-humour, returned to the wounded man ; 
the office intrusted to him was evidently unpalatable. However, as the vaquers 
was an honest man enough, after his own fashion, and prided himself, among the 
numerous other good qualities he fancied he possessed, most especially on 
his adherence to his word, the thought of breaking it never entered hia 
mind. 

“ How is he ? ” he askod Carloc’ho in a whisper. 


48 


Stoneheart. 


** A great deal better,” replied the latter. “ It is astonishing how much good 
the bleeding has done him.” 

“ H’m ! then we have no time to lose. Put a bandage round the eyes of thif 
fellow, and then, lest he should use his hands to remove it, tie them down to his 
sides. Do you understand perfectly ? ” 

“Yes, canarios! One need not be a wizard to do that ! ” 

“Weil, make haste! I give you five minutes to obey my orders : in ten we 
shall be gone.” 

The wounded man had indeed recovered a good deal of his strength. As the 
chief had declared, his wounds were not severe, and the loss of blood alone had 
occasioned his prostration. 

Little by little he had recovered his senses sufficiently to know into whosp hands 
he had fallen ; and although too feeble to offer the slightest opposition whatever to 
the bandits at his side, his presence of mind had returned in a degree to enable him 
to comprehend that the greatest circumspection was necessary. 

So, when Carlocho, according to the injunctions of Pablito, passed a folded 
handkerchief over his eyes and bound his hands, he feigned entire insensibility, 
and allowed them to do as they pleased with him, secretly rejoiced at these 
precautions. 

“ Now, what is to be done ? ” asked Carlocho. 

“Two or three of you take up the wounded man, and carry him to the boat I 
have in waiting close by. And pay particular attention ; for, at the first jolt, 1 
will blow your brains out.” 

“ Car ail ” was all the vaqiiero could utter, for surprise. 

“Ah ! ” said Pablito, with a shrug of his shoulders ; “as you were fools enough 
not to kill him v/hen you might have done so, so much the worse for you: now 
you shall mount guard over him.” 

Carlocho hastened to obey the order. 

Don Fernando was carried thus into a boat by Pablito, Carlocho, and a third 
vaquer(> ; while the remainder went off by land, taking their comrades’ horses with 
them. Three hours later, the prisoner, to whom his keepers had not spoken a word 
during the journey, was carried into the presidio, and shut up in a house lately hired 
by the Tigercat in a fictitious name. 

The bandage was taken from his eyes, his hands were freed ; but a man in a 
mask, mute as a tomb, was placed in his chamber, anji never left him. 

The wounded man, harassed by the journey, and weakened by the blood he had 
lost, resolved, for the present, to trust to chance for relief from his annoying and 
incomprehensible situation. 

The people who served him, though masked and dumb, took the greatest care of 
him, and seemed to vie with each other in their endeavours to comply with his 
wishes. In point of fact, his position was tolerable ; at bottom, there was a spice 
of originality about it ; and Don Fernando, convinced, at the end of two days* 
experience, that no attempt would be made on his life, concluded to bear his lot 
bravely, in the expectation of better times. 

The third day of his captivity, Don Fernando, whose wounds were only sword 
cuts, and now nearly cicatrized, rose from his bed, partly to try his strength, and 
partly to look out and discover where he was. 

The weather was magnificent ; the hot sunlight shone cheerfully in at the 
windows, tracing the bars on the floor of the chamber which served as his prison. 
It made him feel quite refreshed, and he tried to walk a few steps, still carefully 
watched by his inevitable guard, whose flaming eyes were never off him. Suddeid| 
a terrible clamour arose, and a round of artillery shook the panes. 

What is that ? ” asli^d Don Fernando. 


The Prisoner. 


49 


His keeper shrugged his shoulders, but did not reply. 

ITie sharp cracking of muskets was now mingled with the roar of the guns ; and 
it became evident that a hard fight was going on somewhere in the neighbourhood. 
His keeper, imperturbable as ever, closed the windows. 

Don Fernando went up to him. The two men stared at each other for a 
moment. Many a time had the wounded man addressed a question to this stolid 
sentry without eliciting an answer. 

‘‘Friend,” said he, at last, in a gentle voice, “what is going on out of 
doors ? ” 

The man remained mute. 

“Answer me, in the name of Heaven !” continued the querist ; “I ask but 
little.” 

Just then the clamour seemed to draw nearer ; hurried steps, mingled with out- 
cries, sounded close at hand. His keeper rose uneasily, drew his machete (knife) 
from its sheath, pulled a pistol from his belt, and went towards the door ; but on a 
Bu/iden it was violently opened, and a man rushed into the room, his face blanched 
w>th terror. 

“ Up ! on your guard ! ” cried he ; “we are lost ! ” 

His keeper made a sign for Don Fernando to keep back, and placed himself 
r;solutely in front of the door, where four men, masked, and armed to the teeth, 
had just made their appearance. 

“ Back ! ” cried the keeper ; “ no one enters here without a watchword ! ” 

“ Here you have it,” answered one of the men at the door, as, with a pistol, he 
blew out the keeper’s bruins. 

The four men stepped over his body, seized and bound his comrade, who had 
crouched down in the furthest corner of the room, and advanced to Don Fernando, 
who was wondering at the strange scene. 

“You are at liberty, caballero,” said one of the four. “ Come, you must leave 
this house at once.” 

“First of all, who are you?” replied Don F.jrnando. 

“We have no time for explanations,” answered the man in the mask. “ Make 
haste and follow us.” 

*'' Not before I know who you are.” 

The other gave an impatient stamp, and, stooping down, whispered in his ear : 

“ Madman ! have you no wish to see Dona Hermosa again ? ” 

“ I follow you,” said Don Fernando. 

“ Here,” said the mask, “ take these pistols and this sword ; we have not done 
our work yet. We may still have fighting before us.” 

“ Yes ! ” exclaimed Don Fernando joyfully ; “ I now see that you are really sent 
to save me. I will follow wherever you may lead.” 

They hastily left the house. 

“ What ! ” cried Don Fernando, as he out his foot put of doors, “ am I at the 
presidio of San- Luca' ^ 

“ Did you not know it ? ” asked his guide. 

“ How was it possible ? I was brought here with my eyes bandaged.” 

In the court several horses, ready saddled, were tied to rings in the walk 

“ Could you keep your saddle ? ” said the stranger. 

“I hope so,” replied Don Fernando. 

“You must,” said the stranger peremptorily. 

“Then I will, even if I die in it.” 

“Good : let us mount and be gone.” 

At the very moment they were issuing into the street, a troop of ten or twelve 
mounted men were coming up at full gallop. 


Sioneftearf, 


SO 


“ Here are the enemy,” said the stranger in deep and low tones; “we must 
charge and ride over them, or die.” 

The five men formed in line, and rushed like a thunderbolt upon the new- 
comers, at whom they discharged their pistols point-blank, and then cut their way 
with the sword. 

“ CaraiT'* screamed Pablito in a fury — for it was he who commanded the troop 
— “ my prisoner is escaping.” 

Spurring his horse, he dashed at Don Fernando. But the latter, without 
drawing bridle, fired a pistol ; and the vaquero's horse, struck by a ball in the 
forehead, rolled to the ground, bearing his rider with him. 

Pablito rose, half killed by the fall. The men who had attacked him so briskly 
had disappeared. 

“Never mind ; I shall find them again,” he cried. 

In the mean time, the fugitives had reached the bank of the river. 

“We must part here,” said the stranger, taking otf his mask. 

** Estevan ! ” cried Don Fernando. 

“ Myself,” replied the viayar domo, “ This boat will take you to the Hacienda 
del Cormillo. Go there without delay, and,” he added, as he placed in his hands 
a paper folded into four, “ read this attentively ; perhaps you will have to come 
to the rescue in your turn.” 

“ Be assured on that score : I have my revenge to take,” 

“Farewell, my friend.” 

“ Shall I see Dona Hermosa ? ” 

“I am forbidden to talk on the subject.” 

“ Another question then. Do you know who kept me prisoner?” 

“ Yes ; there were two — the Tigercat and Don Torribio.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said Don Fernando, frowning. “ I will not forget them. Once 
more, thanks, Estevan.” 

He sat down in the boat, and gave a sign to the rowers. They were soon in 
rapid motion, and speedily lost in the shadows of the darkening night. 

Hiree persons remained on the bank anxiously watching the course of the frail 
boat. These three persons were Estevan Diaz, Doha Hermosa, and !^a Manueia. 


CHAPTER X. 


i 

[ THE CAMP OF THE REDSKINS. 

\ The extreme care of Don Pedro and his daughter soon restored Don Estevan tm 
perfect health. 

His first care was to reveal to the hacundero^ in accordance with his threat t2 
Don Torribio, the name of the man who had originated the dastardly attack on 
Don Fernando, and into whose hands he had unfortunately fallen. 

After that communication, Don Torribio was a lost man in tho estimation of 
Don Pedro and his daughter. 

Having accomplished this piece of revenge, the mayor domo undertook the duty 
== of discovering tidings of his friend. Chance favoured him much by throwing El 
[B Zapote in his way. The worthy and conscientious vaquero was jwst then in the 
Lbest humour for giving all the information require< i, in conseqi^nce of having that 
livery morning, by a ruinous run of ill-luck which fastened upon him, been utterly 
^cleaned out at monti^ and left without an ockavo (a farthing). By the help 
of a few ounces of gold, the mayor domo contrived to learn, in the minutest detail, 

I all that had passed, and the place where Don Fernando was concealed. 

I As soon as he had learned all he wanted, Don Estevan left the vaqtiero, and at 
' once hastened his return to the hacienda, 

' Doha Hermosa was no ordinary woman. She was gifted with much energy, 
and, moreover, loved Don P'ernando. She resolved to set him free ; but held her 
( tongue, in the fear of making Don Pedro uneasy. She merely expressed a wish 
I to spend a day or two at the hacienda of Las Norias ; to which Don Pedro con- 
: sented, on condition of her taking with her a powerful escort of resolute and 
i well-armed peoncs. 

Instead of going to the hacienda^ the girl went to the presidio^ into which she 
! managed to find her way unnoticed by the Indians. 

Once in the presidio, she revealed her whole daring project to Don Estevan. 

The mayor domo was astounded at her coolness as she detailed the plan she had 
conceived — a plan in which not only herself but also Don Estevan’s mother was 
: to act a part. 

All his efforts to make her renounce her project were futile ; willing or unwilling, 

! he was forced to obey. 

When they could no longer see the boat with Don Fernando, her foster-brothef 
tamed ^o Doha Hermosa. 

“ Now, senorita, what are you going to do next?'' 


52 


^oneheart. 


I am going to visit the camp of the Apaches and see Don Torribio,^ stk 
answered succinctly. 

The mayor domo shuddered. 

“ Dishonour and death await you there,” he said in a hoajse, low Yoicc* 

“ No,” she replied firmly ; “ only revenge.” 

“You wish for revenge.” 

“I demand it.” 

“ Very well,” he replied ; “I will obey you. Go and get ready ; I myself will 
escort you to the camp of the redskins.” 

The three returned to Don Pedro’s house without exchanging another 
syllable. 

Night had now fairly set in. The streets were deserted : a deathlike silence 
pervaded the town, which for two days the Indians had been sacking ; and their 
diabolical figures could be perceived, as they passed and repassed among the still 
flaming ruins. 

When they arrived at the house, Don Estevan stopped short in the court. 

“ Ponder well what you are about to do, sehorita,” said he. “ Why must you 
avenge yourself? Have you not secured the safety of the man you love ? ” 

“Yes; but he has scarcely escaped death. The first atrocious attempt has 
failed ; the second may succeed. Don Torribio has wounded me in my most 
cheri^>hed affections. My resolve is taken : he shall feel a woman’s vengeance.” 

“ Can nothing change your resolve ? ” 

“ Nothing,” said she, coldly. 

“ Then make your preparations, sefiorita ; I will wait for you here.” 

. The two women entered the house together, while Don Estevan seated himself 
on one of the steps of the porch. 

His watching was not long : in ten minutes they returned. 

Both were clothed in the complete Apache dress ; the paint smeared upon their 
faces completed the illusion, and secured them from recognition. The trans- 
formation was so perfect, that Don Estevan could not repress his admiration. 

“ Nothing could be better managed,” he exclaimed ; “you are Indian women 
indeed.” 

“ Do you think,” said Dona Hermosa bitterly, “ that Don Torribio hae the sole 
right of deception and assuming any character he pleases ? ” 

“Who can strive against a woman?” said the mayor domo^ with a shruf. 
“ And now, what are your ordeR ? ” 

“ Very simple ; your escort as faa*as the first Indian lines.” 

“And after that?” 

“The rest of the affair is our work.” 

“ But you are really dreaming of remaining alone in the midst of these pagans?" 

It is no dream ; it is my immovable resolve to stay there.” 

“And you, mother?” said her son sadly ; “are you, too, determined to throw 
your.'^clf into the hands of the savages? ” 

“ Be comforted, my son,” replied the dame ; “ I run no danger.” 

“ And yet — ” 

“Estevan,” said Dona Hermosa, interrupting him, “I will answer for your 
mother’s safety.” 

The mayor domo was thoroughly discouraged. 

“Then,” said he, “ I can only commend you to Heav«n.” 

“Let us go,” said Doha Hermosa, wrapping the folds of her cloak around hen 
Don Estevan led the way. 

The night was dark. Here and there the dying watch-fires in the presidio, 
ound which the besieged were sleeping, threw a pale and uncertain glimmer over 


The Camp of the Redskins. 


53 


tlie surrounding objects, without affording sufficient light to guide them through 
the increasing obscurity. ^ 

I A mournful silence brooded over the town, interrupted at intervals by the hoarse 
cries of the vultures, urubus^ and prairie-wolves, quarrelling over the corpses of 
the slain, and dragging hither and thither morsels of bleeding flesh. 

The three pushed resolutely forward amidst the ruins, stumbling over fragments 
of fallen walls, striding over dead bodies, and disturbing the horrid feast of the 
birds of prey, that flew off uttering screams of anger. 

Thus they had traversed the whole length of the town, and jwrived at last, with 
desperate difficulty, and after making many circuits, at one of the barriers opposite 
the camp of the redskins, from which numberless fires were glancing, and shouts 
and songs were heard. 

The sentries, after exchanging a few words with their guide, allowed the three 
to pass ; a few paces further on, Don Estevan halted, and stopped his com- 
panions. 

“ Look, Doha Hermosa,” said he in a whisper ; “there is the camp of the red- 
I skins before you. If I went further with you, my escort would prove fatal. I 
must stop here ; only a few steps separate you from your object.” 

I “ Thanks ! ” said the ghi, stretching out her hand. Don Estevan retained it 
between his own. 

“Sehorita, one word more.” 

“ Speak, dear friend.” 

“I conjure you, in the name of all you hold dear in the world, to renounce your 
project. Trust to my experience while it is yet time : return to the Hacienda del 
Cormillo ; yOu know not the danger to which you expose yourself.” 

“Estevan,” replied the girl firmly, “whatever be the danger, I will brave it; 
nothing can change my resolve. Farewell ! I shall soon see you again.” 

“ Farewell ! ” repeated the mayor domo. 

Doha Hermosa turned away in the direction of the Indian camp, ^a Manuela 

i hesitated a moment, and then threw herself into the arms of her son. 

“Alas ! ” he cried, excited by the emotions terrible to witness in such a man ; 

! “ stay with me, mother, I implore you ! ” 

“ What ! ” said the noble woman, pointing to Doha Hermosa, “shall I leave 
I her to sacrifice herself alone ? ” 

' Don Estevan was unable to reply. 

Manuela embraced him once more, then tore herself with a violent effort from 
the arms of her son, who vainly strove to restrain her, and hurried to join 
Hermosa. 

I The mayor domo followed them with his eyes as long as he could distinguish 
|i them in the obscurity ; then, uttering a heart-felt sigh, he retraced his steps, 
muttering as he went : 

i, “ If I can only get there in time — if it has only not yet reached Don Jose de 
!■ Kalbris!” 

I Just as Don Estevan arrived at the fort, the governor was leaving it, in company 
1 ' with Don Torribio Quiroga. But the Mexican, absorbed in the ideas which were 
I harassing his brain, did not notice them, although they passed so close to him that 

ii he might have touched them. 

This fatal accident was the cause of irreparable misfortune. 

Having left Don Estevan, the two women wandered about at a venture, directing 
1 , their steps towards the fires in front of them. 

On getting within a certain distance, they stopped to recruit their spirits, and to 
ii calm the throbbing of their hearts, which beat almost to bursting. 

They were now within a few paces of the Indian toldos (huts) ; the rash and 


54 


Sioneheari. 


hazardous nature of their undertaking presented itself in all its force, and the poor 
women felt their courage gradually oozing away, in spite of the resolution which 
had animated them. Their hearts turned to stone at the thought of the horrible 
drama in which they were going to act the principal characters. \ 

Strange to say, it was Manuela who first restored her companion to the firmness 
which was abandoning her. 

Senorita,” she said to her, “it is now my turn to act as guide; if you will 
only consent to follow my counsel, I hope to be able to avoid all the danger with 
which we are threatened.” > 

“ Speak, nurse ; let me hear what you propose.” 

“We must first drop these cloaks, which hide our dress, and betray that we are I 
whites.” 1 

In saying this she threw off her mantle, and cast it away. Dona Hermosa ] 
followed her example. | 

“ Now walk by my side ; show no fear whatever may happen ; and, above all, \ 
do not utter a single word, unless we are hopelessly lost.” | 

“ I obey you,” said Hermosa. ! 

•‘We are to be two Indian women,” continued Manuela, “who have made 
vow to Wacondah for the recovery of their wounded father; and, once again, no 
words from your mouth.” ^ 

“ Let us go on. May God protect us ! ” ; 

“ Amen ! ” said Manuela, devoutly crossing herself. ^ 

They continued their journey, and five minutes afterwards entered the camp of i 
the redskins. 

The Indians, intoxicated with the easy triumph they had gained over the ; 
Mexicans, were giving vent to their joy. There were nothing but singing and ^ 
dancing everywhere. Some casks of aguardiente, discovered in the old presidio 
and in the pillaged haciendas, had been dragged into camp, and staved. 

On this account, unexampled disorder and a nameless hubbub prevailed among 
the Indians, whom drunkenness makes raving mad, and excites to the most hideous ^ 
excesses. 

The power of the sachems was disowned : moreover, the greater number of them 
were in the same state as the warriors ; and there can be no doubt that, if the in- : 
habitants of San-Lucar had been in sufficient force to attempt a surprise, they ’ 
might have made a frightful massacre of the savages, brutalized as they were by ^ 
strong liquors, and incapable of defending themselves. 

Profiting by the disorder, the two women climbed over the ramparts of the camp \ 
without being observed. Then, their hearts palpitating with terror, and with ^ 
shivering limbs, they glided like serpents between the knots of Indians, passing . 
unnoticed through the midst of the drinkers ; seeking at haphazard, and trusting ^ 
to Providence or their good angel to find among the scattered toldos the hovel 
which served as a habitation to the great pale-face. . ^ 

They had already been some time roaming about in this manner, without lighting \ 
on any unpleasant adventure. Emboldened by success, their fears nearly dissipated} j 
they were exchanging looks of encouragement, when suddenly an Indian of athletic i 
stature seized Dona Hermosa round the waist, and, lifting her from the ground, | 
gave her a boisterous kiss on the neck. 4 

At this unexpected insult, she uttered a shriek of terror, and, making a super- 1 
hum.an effort, freed herself from his arms, pushing him from her with all hei | 
strength. The savage staggered backwards, and, too drunk to keep his legs, | 
dropped to the ground, giving vent to a cry of rage; but, springing up in an| 
inst^ant, he rushed like a jaguar on Hermosa. | 

Na Manuela threw herself hastily before her. \ 


I 


The Camp of the Redskins, 


55 


** Back ! ” said she, resolutely placing her hand on the Indian’s chest ; “ this 
j girl is my sister.” 

El Zopilote is a brave who never puts up with an insult,” replied the savage, 
i frowning, and unsheathing his knife. 

Win you kill her ? ” exclaimed Manuela in genuine terror ; “ will you kill my 
sister?” 

Yes, I will kill her, unless she consents to follow me to my toldoy when she 
i shall be the wife of a chief. ” 

You are mad,” said Manuela. “Your toldo is full, and there is no room for 
another fire.” 

“ There is room for two more,” replied the Indian, grinning. “ Since you are 
i her sister, you shall go with her.” 

The noise had collected a crowd of Indians round the two women, who were 
thus the centre of a circle it would have been impossible to break through. 

, Manuela instantly comprehended the danger of their situation ; she saw they 
were all but lost. 

“ Well, ” continued El Zopilote, seizing in his left hand Hermosa’s hair, and 
j twisting it round his wrist, at the same time brandishing his scalping-knife, “ will 
you and your sister follow me to my toldo t ” 

The poor girl cowered down ; half recumbent upon the ground, she awaited the 
mortal blow. 

Manuela drew herself up to her full height ; her eyes flashed fire ; she arrested 
! the arm of El Zopilote, and addressed him thus : 

“ Since thou wilt have it so, dog, let thy destiny be fulfilled ! Behold, the 
i; Wacondah allows not his servants to be insulted with impunity.” 

Hitherto Manuela had contrived to keep herself in such a position that her face 
was shaded as much as possible, and no one had remarked her features ; now she 
turned her head towards the full light of the fires. On seeing the fantastic lines 
of paint, the Indians gave utterance to a cry of surprise, and recoiled in terror. 

Manuela smiled at her easy triumph; she resolved to complete it without 
; delay. 

“The power of the Wacondah is boundless,” she cried; “woe to him who 
J would oppose his schemes : he it is who sends me. Back, all ! ” 

S Grasping the arm of Dona Hermosa, who had scarcely recovered from hei 
terrible emotion, she advanced to the edge of the circle. The Indians hesitated. 
Manuela extended her arm in an attitude of supreme command; the outwitted 
i savages opened to right and left, and gave them free passage. 

' “ I shall die,” faintly whispered Dona Hermosa. 

’ “ Courage ! ” replied Manuela, “ we are saved.” 

■ “ Wagh I ” said a jeering voice ; “ what is passing here? ** 

I And a man placed himself before the two women. 

“ The amantzin ! ” muttered the Indians ; and, taking fresh courage, th^" 

: crowded round their prisoners. , 

, Manuela shuddered, overcome with despair at seeing her hopes annin 
j still the resolute woman determined to make one more effort. 

! “The Wacondah loves the Indians,” she said; “it is he who sends me the 
I amantzin of the Apache braves.” 

I “ Indeed ! ” said the sorcerer, with a sneer ; “and what does he want with 
1 me?” 

1 “ None but yourself may hear.” 

“ Wagh ! ” said the amantzin^ ]^\Jacing his hand on her shoulder, and looking at 
her attentively ; “ what proof can you give me of the mission with which the all- 
powerful Spirit has charged you ? ” 


5b 


Stofieheart, 


“Will you or will you not save me?** said Manuela, whispering rapidly 
in his ear. 

“That depends on her,** answered the sorcerer, fixing his glittering eyes 
on the girl. 

“ See ! *’ said Manuela, presenting to him the rich bracelets of gold and pearls 
she took from her arms. 

“ Wagh / ’* replied the sorcerer, hiding them in his bosom ; “ they are beautiful 1 
What does my mother require ? ** 

“ First of all, to be freed from these men,** 

“ And afterwards ? ** 

“ Deliver us first.** 

“It shall be as you will.** 

The Indians had remained motionless, impassive spectators of the scene. They 
had heard nothing of this short conversation. The amantzin turned towards 
them, exhibiting a countenance distorted with fear. 

“Fly!*’ he said, in terrible accents; “this woman brings misfortune ! The 
Wacondah is angry ! Fly, all ; fly ! ** 

The Indians, who had only been restored to confidence by the advent of their 
sorcerer, seeing him a prey to a terror they could not comprehend, first crowded 
together, and then dispersed, without asking further questions . 

As soon as they had disappeared behind the toldoSt the sorcerer turned to the 
two women. 

“ Am I able to protect you ? ** he asked. 

“ Yes,** replied Manuela 5 “ and I thank my father, who is as powerful as he 
is wise. ” 

A smile of gratified pride just formed itself on the lips of the cautious Indian 
“I am powerful to avenge myself on those who deceive me,’* said he. 

“ Therefore I shall not attempt to deceive my father.’* 

“ Whence comes my white daughter?” he asked. 

“’From the ark of the first man,’* replied Manuela, looking him steadily in 
the face. 

The amantzin blushed. 

“My daughter has the forked tongue of congouary ' he said. “Does she 
take me for a lizard, that one can entrap like an old woman ? ’* 

“ Here is a necklace,” she replied, offering a rich string of pearls to the Indian j 
•‘the Wacondah gave it me for the wise man of the Apaches.” 

**lVagk!^^ said the amantzin; “my mother cannot lie ; she is wise. What 
>re can I do for her ? ’* And he slipped the necklace into the same receptacle 
^ the bracelets. 

^y father must lead me to the toldo of the great white chief who fights in the 
')f the Apache warriors.” 
daughter would speak to the white chief? ** 
yUld.” 

jfe white chief is a wise man ; will he admit women to his councils ? ** 

•Let not that trouble my father ; but, I say, to-night I must speuk with the 
white chief.’* 

“Good; my mother shall speak to him. But this woman ? ’* and he pointed 
to Doha Hermosa. 

“That woman,” answered Manuela, “is a firiend of the Tigercat. She too is 
charged with a mission to the sachemd' 

The sorcerer shook his head. 

“ The warriors must spin the vicuna wool.” said he. “ since women make wai 
iggyd sit at the council-fire.” 


The Camp of the Redskins, 


57 


** My father errs ; the sachem loves my sister.” 

“Impossible,” replied the Indian. 

“ Let us see if my father will refuse to lead me to the ioldo of the great chief,” 
said Manuela, impatient at the tergiversations of the amantzin, and dreading the 
return of her persecutors. “Let him beware ; the great chief expects us.” 

The sorcerer cast a piercing look at her, which Manuela bore without casting 
down her eyes. 

“ Good,” said he : “my mother does not lie. Follow me.” 

Grasping each of the women by a wrist, he placed himself between them, and 
began to guide them through the labyrinthine confusion of the camp. 

The Indians they met on their road avoided them with unequivocal signs of 
terror. 

The amantzin was by no means displeased with what had happened : he was 
radiant with joy ; for, besides the profit derived from meeting the women, the 
incident which occurred in consequence had tended to confirm his power in the 
eyes of the credulous and superstitious Indians, who believed him to be really 
inspired by the Wacondah. 

A quarter of an hour’s difficult walking brought them to the toldo in front of 
which the totem (standard) of the assembled tribes was planted, surrounded by 
lances fringed with scarlet, and guarded by four warriors, 

“This is the place,” said the sorcerer to Manuela. 

“ Good ; let my father give orders that we enter alone.” 

“ Am I to leave you ? ” 

“ Yes ; my father can wait for us outside.” 

“ I will wait,” he briefly replied, casting a suspicious look on them. 

At a sign from the amantzin^ the sentries placed before the toldo made way for 
the women. They entered with trepidation : the dwelling was unoccupied. 

They were unable to repress a sigh of satisfaction. The absence of Don 
Torribio gave them time to prepare for the interne w Dona Hermosa so greatly 
desired. 

The amantzin remained standing at the entrance to the toldo. This man, lately 
raised to the dignity through the influence of the Tigercat, was his tool, and acted 
as his spy. 


CHAPTER XL 


THE RENEGADE. 

Don Torribio Quiroga and Don Jose Kalbris urged on tfieir horses, m oider 
to get beyond the defences of the presidio as soon as possible. 

The governor was rejoicing at the reinforcement the general commanding in the 
province had sent him. He knew it would be an easy task to compel the Indians 
to raise the siege of the presidio when once the troops marching up had joined 
him. Indeed, he counted upon profiting by the opportunity to give the Apaches 
— those untiring ravagers of the Mexican frontiers — such a rude lesson, that it 
would be long before they again attempted an inroad into the territory of the 
Confederation. 

They now arrived at one of the barriers, guarded by a strong detachment 
of vaqueros and townspeople. 

“We must pass through here,” said Don Torribio to the governor. “The 
night is dark, bands of these Indian vagabonds are prowling about all over the 
country, and we shall most probably have to ride a league or two before we meet 
our men. I think it will be scarcely prudent for us to venture forth without an 
Cbcort. ” 

“ A very just remark,” said Don Jose. 

“You must recollect that you are the governor of the presidio , continued Don 
Torribio, with a singularly strange smile. “The consequences would be very 
serious for the town if the Indians were to attack us, and take us prisoners. I do 
not mention this on my own account, but on yours : I should be a prize of litt’e 
value to the savages ; but with you it is a very different matter. 1 beg you to 
consider this carefully, before we go any further.” 

“ By heaven ! you are quite right, colonel ; it would be an unpardonable impru- 
dence. So I think the best thing we can do is to take an escort.” 

“ I think it would be advantageous,” said Don Torribio. “ How many men 
Ivill you take ? ” 

“ Oh, a dozen at the most.” 

“ No ; take at least a score. We cannot tell whom we may fall in with on our 
road at this time of night. Suppose we were to be set upon by a couple of 
hundred Indians ! We ought to be able to show them a front.” 

“ Let it be a score, then, if you like,” answered Don Jose, with perfect indiffer- 
ence ; “ and be good enough to choose them yourself” 

“Make your mind easy ” said Torribio. 


The Renegade, 


59 


Witih that he rode up to the guard, who had turned out on the governor’s 
arrival, and picked out twenty horsemen, whom he ordered to form behind them. 

“ Now,” said he to the governor, “we are ready to march.” 

“ Then let us go, in Heaven’s name,” said the other, giving his horse his head. 

The escort put itself in motion, and followed Don Jose Kalbris and Colonel 
Torribio Quiroga at about twenty paces’ interval. 

All went well for nearly an hour, when the governor began to grow restless, in 
spite of Don Torribio’s lively conversation. The latter kept up a constant fire of 
jokes and sparkling repartees, laying himself out to amuse Don Jose, and had 
never before proved so agreeable a companion. 

“Excuse me, colonel,” said the governor, coming to a halt; “but is it not 
extraordinary that we see no signs of the troops we are going to meet ? ” 

“ Not at all, sehor ; perhaps the officer in command is waiting for my return, 
before he leads his men into roads with which he is unacquainted.” 

“ It is just possible,” said the governor, after a minute’s reflection, “that you 
may be right.” 

“I think it highly probable,” said Don Torribio ; “and, in that case, we hav© 
nearly another league before we can meet him. ” 

“ Then we had bolter push on.” 

They resumed their march, but without renewing their conversation. Both of 
them seemed absorbed in meditation. At times Don Torribio raised his head, 
and looked carefully about him. All of a sudden they heard the distant neigh of 
a horse. 

“ What is that ? said Don Torribio. 

“ Most likely the troops we are looking for, ” replied the governor, . 

“ Perhaps,” answered the other ; “but we had better be cautious.” 

Requesting the governor to stop where he was, he set spurs to his horse, and 
riding forward was soon lost in the darkness. Having ridden a short distance, ho 
dismounted, applied his ear to the ground, and listened. 

“ Detnonios ! ” he exclaimed, hastily rising and throwing himself into the saddle ; 

they are pursuing us ! Can that vagabond, Don Estevan, have recognized me ? 
There is not a moment to lose ! ” 

“ V/ell, what is it ? ” asked the governor, as Don Torribio rode furiously back 
to him. 

“ Nothing,” said Don Torribio shortly ; “ nothingat least of any interest to you.” 

“ Then—” 

“ Then,” retorted the other, laying his hand on the governor’s left arm — “ Don 
Jose Kalbris, surrender ; you are my prisoner.” 

“What do you say? ’’replied the astounded veteran. “Are you mad, Don 
Torribio ? ” 

“ Call me no longer Don Torribio : I am a nameless, homeless wretch, whom 
the thirst for vengeance has driven amongst the Apaches.” 

“Treason!” exclaimed the astonished governor. “To the rescue, men f 
Defend your colonel ! ” 

“ These men will not help you, Don Jose ; they are in my pay. Surrender, I 
say!” 

“ I will not surrender,” said the governor resolutely. “Don Torribio, or what- 
ever else you may call yourself, you are a coward ! ” 

He gave his horse the spur, shook off Don Torribio’s hold, and drew his sword. 
At the same time the rapid approach of horsemen was heard in the distance. 

“ Aha ! ” said the governor resolutely, cocking a pistol ; “here comes aid at 
last ! ” 

“ Yes,” replied Don Torribio ; “ but it comes too late.” 


6o 


Sioneheart, 


And he ordered the vaqturot to surround Don Jose, and attack him. A couple 
of shots from the governor’s pistol laid two of them in the dust ; and then a terrible 
combat began. 

Don Jose, knowing all hope of safety to be gone, determined to sell his life 
dearly, and did wonders. An accomplished horseman, he parried the blows aimed 
at him, and struck fiercely into the men crowding upon him with savage vocifera- 
tions. In the mean time the thundering gallop of the approaching horsemen grevJ 
louder. Don Torribio saw it was time to make a finish, and shot the governor’s 
horse through the head. 

Don Jose came violently to the ground, but was up again in a moment, and 
aimed a blow at the renegade, which the latter avoided by a dexterous movement. 
Then the gallant old soldier put the muzzle of his pistol to his own forehead. 

“ A man like me,” said he, “never surrenders to dogs like you; here, curs, 
quarrel over my body ! ” 

With these words he blew his brains out. 

Just then several shots were fired, and a troop of horsemen fell, like a whirl- 
wind, upon the vaqtieros. Don Estevan and Major Barnum led the assailants. 

The conflict did not last long. Don Torribio gave a loud whistle, and the 
vaqueros went to the right-about, and, scattering in all directions, were soon lost 
sight of. 

Seven or eight, however, of the party remained dead on the field of battle. 

“ What is to be done? ’’ said Major Barnum. 

** Nothing !” replied Don Estevan sorrowfully; “ we are too late. Don Jose 
has killed himself rather than submit to be carried oft' by these dogs.” 

“ He was a noble soldier ! ” said the major ; “ but how can we get at the rascals 
again ? ” 

We will let them alone, major : they are in camp by this time. Trust me, we 
shall soon learn to read this riddle.” 

The mayor domo demounted, and cut with his machete a branch of the resinous 
pine- wood which grows so abundantly through all the country. He struck a light, 
and in a minute or two a torch was ready. 

By its ruddy and flickering flame, he and the major began to examine the bodies 
on the ground. They soon found the governor, lying on his back, with his head 
horribly crushed. His hand still retained the fatal weapon ; and his features wore 
an expression of haughty disdain and indomitable courage. 

“ Look at him ! ” said Don Estevan. 

The -major could not repress the tear that rolled silently down his swarthy 
cheek. 

“ Yes,” he said ; “he has died like a soldier, with his face to the foe. But, 
alas ! he has fallen a victim to treachery — killed by a white man. My poor old 
friend ! was this to be your end ? ” 

“It was God’s will,” answered Don Estevan. 

It was,” said the major : “ may we all do our duty as he has done his ! ” 

Reverently they lifted the body, put it upon a horse, and marched back in 
sadness to the presidio. 

In the meanwhile, Don Torribio was greatly disconcerted. His plans had 
failed. He had not wished the governor to lose his life, for his death would be 
no benefit, but, on the contrary, prejudicial, by inspiring the Mexicans with the 
desire for revenge, and strengthening their determination to resist to the last, and 
bury themselves under the ruins of the presidio, rather than surrender to such 
ferocious enemies. His intention had been to seize Don Jose, keep him prisoner, 
imd to make his own terms with the Mexicans. 

But the old soldier’s energetic resistance, and resolve to blow out hiS own 


The Renegade, 


6i 


brains rather than surrender, had upset these plans. So he returned to the camp, 
cast down and discontented, while his companions looked upon the cause of his 
dejection as a triumphant success. 

Manuela and Doha Hermosa had profited by his absence to throw off their 
disguise, and resume their usual dress. 

As soon as Don Torribio reached his toldo^ the sorcerer, who had never quitted 
it since he had led the two women to the spot, came forward to meet him. 

“ What do you want ? ” said Don Torribio. 

** Let my father look with a favourable eye upon me,” replied the amantzin^ 
** two women have entered the camp to-night.” 

“And what on earth is that to me?” said the chief impatiently ; “ out of my 
way.” 

These females, although dressed like Indians, are white,” answered the 
sorcerer, laying great stress on the last two words. 

“ What then? They are most likely wives of some of the vaquerQS, I suppose,” 
cried the other. 

“ Not so,” said the cunning sorcerer ; “their hands are too white, and their feet 
too small.” 

“ Indeed ! ” replied the other, in whom the tale began to excite some interest ; 
** who has taken them prisoner?” 

“No one ; they arc here alone, of their own accord.” 

“Alone?” 

“ They said they had important revelations to make to my father.” 

“They did ?” said the chief, now scanning the man narrowly ; “and how does 
my father know that ? ” 

“ Because I rescued them, and brought them to my father’s 

“ Then they are in here ? ” 

“ This hour or more.” 

Don Torribio drew from his pocket a few ounces, and handed them to the 
sorcerer. “ I thank my brother,” said he ; “he has done >vell.” 

The amantzin grinned, and pocketed the bribe. 

Don Torribio rushed to the toldo, and raised the curtain. A cry of joy and 
astonishment escaped him when he recognized Dona Hermosa. 

The latter smiled; while he bowed gracefully, asking himself the while what 
the real meaning of this could be. 

Doha Hermosa could not resist admiring the man. His rich uniform became 
him well ; it exhibited all his handsome proportions, and increased his attractions. 

“ What rank shall I give you ? ” she said, beckoning to him to sit down by her 
side. 

“ Give me any name you like best, sehorita. If you speak to the Spaniard, call 
me Don Torribio ; if you address yourself to the Indian, the nanje by which I am 
known among the Apaches is ‘ the Accursed.' ” 

“ Why have they given you this dreadful name ? ” 

There was no answer to her question; and the two gazed at each other in 
silence. 

Dona Hermosa was thinking of the manner in which she should tell him the 
object of her visit ; he was pondering over the reasons which could have brought 
her there. He was the first to speak. 

“ Have you really come here in quest of me, senorita? ” 

“ Of whom else ? ” she replied. 

“Excuse my frankness,” said he; “but this Seems to me so extraordinary, 
that although I see and hear you, I cannot believe in such great good fortune. * 
iieel «f if I were in a dream, and dread die awakening.” 


62 


Sioneheart. 


This piece of flattery was pronounced in the tone which Don Torribio Quiroga 
would have employed had he been at Don Pedro’s hacienda ; a tone adding to 
the strangeness of the scene, it was so little in accord with the circumstances and 
the place where it was uttered. 

“ Good sir,” replied Doha Hcrmosa, in the same easy tone Tie had used towards 
her, “ I will relieve your trouble, and hasten to dispel the witchery to which you 
would attribute my presence in your ioldod^ 

‘‘You will still remain an enchantress in my eyes,” said he, smiling. 

“You flatter me. If there is any enchantment at all in the matter, poof 
Estevan is the wizard. He knew my fixed determination to see you, and told me 
where I should find you. So, if you are determined to raise somebody to the rank 
of sorcerer, let Estevan be the victim. ” 

“ I will not forget him when the opportunity occurs,” said Don Torribio, his 
face darkly clouding over. “ But let us not wander from our own two selves. I 
have the hapjyness to see you here : will it offend you if I ask why you come ? ” 

“ The reason is quite simple,” replied Dona Hermosa, eyeing him steadfastly. 

A girl of my age, and particularly of my rank ” — and she laid great emphasis on 
the latter word — “ does not take a step so — let us say, so singular, without a strong 
motive. ” 

“ I am sure of it” 

“ What motive could be strong enough to induce a woman to lay asid# Ihe 
kistinctive modesty of her sex, and risk her good name ? I know but one. When 
her heart is in question, when her love is involved — Am I speaking clearly, Don 
Torribio ? Do you begin to understand me ? ” 

“ I begin to comprehend, senorita.” 

“The last time we met, my father received you coldly, — you, my betrothed. 
Mad with jealousy, furious with him and myself, believing our marriage broken 
off. you rushed from us, and left the hacienda with rage and hatred boiling in youi 
breast.” 

“ Cousin, 1 swear to you — ” 

“ I am a woman, Don Torribio ; and we women possess an instinct which 
never deceives us. Can you think for a moment that I, on the verge of marriage 
with you, did not know the love you felt for me ? ” 

Don Torribio gazed at her wildly with an indefinable expression. He really 
did not understand. 

“ A few days later,” she continued, “ Don Fernando Carril fell into an ambush, 
*nd was left for dead on the spot. Why did you do this, Don Torribio ?” 

“ I will not attempt to deny, senorita, that I wished to avenge myself on one 1 
considered a rival ; but I swear I gave no orders to kill him.” 

“ 1 know it,” she replied ; “ you need not attempt to exculpate yourself.” 

Don Torribio looked at her without understanding her words. 

“ The man whom you imagined to be your rival was no favoured suitor,” she 
continued, with a sweet smile. “ You had scarcely left the hacienda^ before I 
confessed to my father that you were my only love, and that I would never consent 
to marry another.” 

“ Is it possible?” cried Don Torribio, rising in his excitement. “Oh, had I 
but known it ! ” 

“ Calm yourself; the evil you have done is partly repaired. Don Fernando, 
rescued by my orders from the clutches of Pablito, is now at Las Norias, whence 
he will shortly depart for Mexico. My father, who can never refuse me anything, 
has given me permission to choose him I love most.” 

As she said this, she darted at Don Torribio a look full of unutterable affection. 

He was thunderstruck. A crowd of opposing feeiings jostled in his breast ; 


The Renegade, 


63 


did not dare to put full credence in the girl’s words ; a cruel doubt would insinuate 
itself. Was she mocking him ? 

“ Is it indeed true,” he said, “ that you could still love me ? ” 

“ Is not my presence here an answer? Why should I have come? what should 
induce me? ” 

“ It is true ! ” said he, falling on his knees before her. Forgive me, senorita ; 
I am mad, and know not what I say. It is too much happiness.” 

A smile of triumph lighted up her face. 

“ If I did not love you,” she said, “could I not have chosen Don Fernando, who 
is now at the hacienda ? ” 

“ Yes, yes ; you are a thousand times right ! O woman ! adorable woman ! who 
is able to fathom thy heart ? ” 

Doha Hermosa smiled bitterly : she had brought the lion captive to her feet ; she 
had vanquished man in his pride. Now she was sure of her revenge, 

“ What answer shall I give my father ? ” she said. 

He drew himself up to his full height ; his eyes flashed, his features grew radiant, 
and he answered in a low tone : 

“ Senorita, my happiness is immeasurable. Say to your father that the devo- 
tion of a whole life cannot repay the bliss of this interview. As soon as the presidio 
of San-Lucar is taken. 1 shall present n^self at the hacienda o£ Don Fedro di 


CHAPTER XtTs 


WOMAN*) WILL. 

Every extreme situation, as Soon as it reaches its culminating point, must nece»- 
sarily subside into a reaction of an opposite tendency. This was exactly whit 
happened after the scene we described in the last chapter. 

Don Torribio, beside himself with joy, could not accept Dona Hermosa’s pro* 
testations of love without a certain degree of mistmst. Yet the improbability of 
her having taken this decided step from other motives than the one she professed 
had materially aided her in her successful attempt to hoodwink her admirer. 

Intelligence of a high class is often accompanied by a weakness detrimental to 
its possessors ; they cannot bring themselves to believe that those who fawn upon 
them and flatter their propensities are sufficiently acute to deceive them. And so 
it happened in this case. How could he fail to believe a girl, still almost a child, 
whose manner seemed so guileless, whose looks were fraught with love, and who 
avowed her affection so frankly ? 

What could she gain by deceiving him, now Don Fernando was alive? What 
object could she have in coming thus to put herself into his hands, without the 
possibility of escape ? 

All this appeared absurd : and was so, in (act, up to a certain point. 

It only proved that Don Torribio, pre-eminently a statesman, endowed with 
admirable talent, and whose sole aim through life had been the accomplishment of 
his dreams of ambition, was so entirely absorbed in far fetched political calcula- 
tions, that he had no time to study liiat amalgam of archness, grace, and perfidy 
we call woman, and knew nothing about her nature. 

A woman — a South American woman especially — never forgives an injury to hei 
lover ; he is the holy ark which none may touch. 

Moreover, we must say, Doha Hermosa was the first, the only love of Don 
Torribio. His love was to him a creed, a faith ; and all doubt vanished from 
before his eyes at the proof she had just given of her affection. 

“And now,” she said to him, “can I remain in the camp till my father comes, 
without risking insult ? ” 

“You have but to command ! ” he replied : “all here are your slaves.” 

“The woman, under whose protection I was able to reach you, will go back to 
the hacienda of Las Norias.” 

Don Torribio strode to the curtain of the toldo^ and claimed his hands twtcib 

An Indian warrior appeared. 


fVomau’s WiH. 


6S 


“ Let a toldo be prepared for me ; I cede this to the two pale-face women,” he 
said, in the Apache language ; ‘‘a body of chosen braves, whom my brother will 
command, will watch incessantly over their safety. Woe to him who fails in the 
profoundest respect ! These women are sacred ; free to come and go, and to 
receive whomsoever they choose. Does my brother understand ? ” 

The warrior bowed his head without reply, 

“ Let my brother have two horses ready. * 

The Indian disappeared. 

“You see, senorita,” he continued, turning towards her, “you are queen here.” 
“ I thank you ! ” said Doha Hermosa, drawing from her bosom an open letter 
she had prepared for the occasion ; “I felt sure of the result of my interview with 
you : you see, I have announced it to my father, even before I met you. Take 
this, Don Torribio, and read what I have written.” 

She held it out to him with a charming smile, but with an extreme inward mis- 
giving. 

“ Sehorita,” he replied, motioning the letter away, “ What a daughter writes to 
her father should be sacred ; no one but himself should read it.” 

Dona Hermosa folded up the letter without evincing the least emotion at the 
terrible risk she had just run, and gave it to Manuela. 

“ Mother,” she said, “you will give this letter to my father, and explain to him 
what I have not been able to write. ” 

“Allow me to retire,” exclaimed Don Torribio; “1 must not listen to the 
instructions you are about to give to your attendant. ” 

“ I object,” she replied ; “I must have no secrets from you ; henceforth you 
must know all my inmost thoughts.” 

Don Torribio glowed with delight. Just then they brought the horses. Doha 
Hermosa profited by the opportunity afforded by his speaking to the Apache to 
say rapidly to Manuela ; “Your son must be here in an hour, if that be possible. ** 
Manuela made a sign of acquiescence, and Don Torribio re-entered the toldo. 

“ I myself will accompany Na Manuela as far as the defences of the presidio ; 
this will insure her from incurring any danger.” 

“Thanks once more,” replied Dona Hermosa. 

The two women threw themselves into each other’s arms, and embraced as if 
they were neN^r to meet again. 

“ Do not forget ! ” whispered Dona Hermosa. 

“Trust in me,” replied Manuela. 

“This is now your home,” said Don Torribio; “no one will dare to enter 
without your permission.” 

Dona Hermosa smiled her thanks, and accompanied them to the entrance of the 
toldo ; Manuela and her escort mounted and departed. 

The young Mexican followed them with her eyes till the sound of their horses’ 
feet was lost amid the other noises in the camp, when she returned to the toldo 
murmuring : “ The first steps are taken : now to discover his intentions.” 

A quarter of an hour later Manuela and her guide arrived within a hundred 
yards of the pueblo. They had not exchanged a word. 

“ You have now no further need of me,” said Don Torribio, “Keep the horse ; 
he may be useful to you. May God preserve you ! ” 

Without another word, he turned his horse, and rode back to the camp, leaving 
hlanuela alone. 

The latter looked about her to discover whereabouts she was, and then rode 
resolutely towards the town, which was looming in a dark mass before her. She 
had only gone a few paces when a rude hand seized her reins, a pistol was {Re- 
sented at her head, and a rough voice exclaimed in Spanish : 

r 


Sioneheart, 


6 ^ 


“Who goes there ? ” 

•‘Friend,” she replied, attempting to conceal her trepidation. 

•‘Mother ! ” cried a joyful voice. 

“Estevan, my darling child,” she exclaimed, throwing herself on his breast, to 
which she was clasped in the most affectionate embrace. 

• ‘ How did you come here, and whence ? ” he asked, after a lime. 

“From the camp of the red-skins.” 

“ Already ? ” said he, in astonishment. 

“ Yes ; my mistress sends me to you.” 

“ And who was the man with you, mother ? ** 

•‘ Don Torribio himself.” 

‘•Malediction ! ” exclaimed the mayor domo ; “ I have let him escape, when I 
had covered him for five minutes with my rifle. But we will not stay here. Come 
with me. As soon as I have placed you in safety, you shall relate what your 
mistress has charged you to communicate to me.” 

When they got into the presidio^ Don Estevan made his mother recount the 
incidents of their expedition 

“ Ah ! ” said he more than once, “ women are imps of cunning ; men are but 
fools beside them ! ” 

When Manuela had quite finished her tale, he said : “Mother, there is not a 
moment to lose ; Don Pedro must get the letter this veiy night. The poor father 
must be in a state of dreadful anxiety.” 

“ I am going to him myself,” said Manuela. 

“No ! ” he replied ; “you have need of rest. I have a man here who will 
acquit himself well of this commission. ” 

“ As you please, Estevan,” said she, giving him the letter. 

“Yes, I think this will be the best way. Come into this hou.se ; the good 
woman to whom it belongs knows me, and will take every care of you.” 

“ Are you going to Dona Hermosa ? ” 

“ By Heavens ! do you think I intend to leave the poor girl there, in the midst 
of those rascals ? Besides, what she has got to say to me may concern us all 
narrowly.” 

“ Devoted as ever, Estevan ! How like you it is ! ” 

“What can I do, mother ? ” he replied, with a laugh. “ Devotion seems to be 
my vocation.” 

He led his mother into the house, where he confided her to its mistress, and 
then went in search of his emissary to Don Pedro di Luna. 

Round a bright fire burning in the centre of the street several men were lying, 
wrapped in their cloaks. Don Estevan roughly shook one of the sleepers. 

“Wake, Tonillo ! ” he said; “get up, mtichacho : you must be off for the 
Hacienda de las Norias.” 

“ But I only came thence a quarter of an hour ago ! ” replied the lepero, rubbing 
his eyes, and still half asleep. 

“ I know it ; and that is the reason why I send you ; you ought to know the 
road well. Besides, it is for Doha Hermosa’s sake.” 

“ For Dona Hermosa’s sake ! ” cried the lepero^ whom the sound of the name 
seemed to awaken thoroughly ; “ what are her orders ? ” 

“ Now you are as you should be,” said the mayor domo, “Mount directly, and 
carry this letter to Don Pedro : to say it is from his daughter, is to tell you it is ol 
importance ” 

“ Very well ; I will go this minute.” 

••I have no need to tell you that no one must take this paper from you.** 

“I can see that, canarios^* 


Woman*s Wit!, 


67 


“You will let yourself be killed sooner than give it up ? ** 

“Yes, yes; make yourself easy, mayor dofno.^^ 

“And even after death they must not find it.” 

“ I will sooner eat it ; Rayo de Dios ! ” 

Tonillo was galloping towards the hacienda a quarter of an hour later. 

“It is my turn now,” said the mayor domo to himself, as soon as he was alone ; 
“ but how am I to -get to Doha Hermosa ? ” 

It seemed as if a little consideration had enlightened him as to the means, for 
he banished the frown from his forehead, and gaily took the road to the fort. 

After a conference with Major Barnum, who, since the death of the governor, 
had assumed the command of the town, Estevan disguised himself as an Indian, 
and went to the camp of the red-skins. Shortly before sunrise he was in the town 
again. 

“ Well ! ” said his mother. 

“All is for the best,” he replied. “ Vive Dios ! I think Doha Hermosa will 
make that incarnate demon pay dearly for kidnapping Don Fernando.” 

“ Am I to rejoin her ? ” 

“No ; it is not necessary.” 

Without entering into any details, Don Estevan, who was sinking from fatigue, 
retired to snatch a few hours’ repose. 

Several days passed without the Indians attacking the pueblo. They contented 
themselves with investing it more closely, without attempting an assault. Their 
plan seemed to be to starve out the inhabitants, and force them to surrender from 
famine. 

The blockade was kept so strictly, that it w^as impossible for the besieged to stir 
beyond their lines : all their communications were cut off, and provisions began 
to fail. The cattle which had been collected at the commencement of the siege 
had all been killed, and the Mexicans were now driven to the necessity of con- 
suming the hides. 

The plan would doubtless have succeeded, and the Mexicans, reduced to the 
last extremity, would soon have been obliged to surrender without striking a blow ; 
but a project of Don Estevan’s, communicated to Major Barnum, and executed 
without delay, suddenly defeated the Tigercat’s plans, and obliged him to make 
the assault, in order to hinder the revolt of the tribes who followed him. The 
Mexicans, whom the pangs of famine were driving to despair, were eagerly longing 
for the assault. 

Don Estevan ordered a hundred and fifty loaves to be made of wheat saturated 
with arsenic. These were packed on a few mules, still left in the fort, in company 
with twenty-four kegs of brandy mixed with vitriol. With ten trusty fellows, he 
escorted this formidable freight to within a short distance of the red-skin intrench- 
ments. 

Everything happened as he had foreseen. The Indians, who are extravagantly 
fond of brandy, were allured by the sight of the kegs, and rushed upon the cunvoy 
in the hopes of capturing it. 

Don Estevan lost no time. Casting loaves and kegs upon the sand, and retreat- 
ing at full speed, he brought off his men and mules in the pueblo. 

The Indians, dragging their booty into their camp, knocked in the heads of the 
barrels, and an orgie commenced which lasted till bread and brandy had dis- 
appeared. 

More than a thousand Indians perished through this ingenious device of the 
mayor domd's ;* the others, smitten with teiTor, began to disband in all directions. 

* A toct. An identical occurrence took pace at the Carman jai Patagonia, during an atuck by th« 

/odiaM. 


6S 


Sloneheart. 


The exasperated savages, in their first moments of excitement, and in spite of 
the efforts of tlieir leader, ruthlessly massacred under horrible tortures all the men, 
women, and children who had fallen into their power at the commencement of 
the war, and had been kept prisoners in the camp up to the time. 

Dona Hermosa herself, notwithstanding the respect with which she had 
been treated, and the extreme care she took never to leave the toldo^ was 
in great danger of falling a victim to the fury of the Indians. Chance alone 
saved her. 

The great chief resolved to finish the war at once. He despatched El Zopilote 
to order all the sachems to assemble in his toldo. As soon as they arrived, he 
announced to them that at the erniidha (daybreak) on the morrow the presidio 
would be attacked on all sides at once. 

Don Torribio in his quality of chief was present at the council. As soon as it 
was over, he hastened to Dona Hermosa’s toldo, and demanded an interview. 

Since her arrival in the camp, although the Tigercat was perfectly aware of all 
that was going on between her and Don Torribio, he had purposely avoided 
meeting her, contenting himself with congratulating the latter on the affection the 
girl manifested for him. Nevertheless, an acute observer might have easily 
perceived that the Tigercat harboured some sinister purpose in his mind. But 
Don Torribio, on the contrary, was too much blinded by his passion to attempt 
to read the countenance of the old bandit. 

The intensity of his love and the zest with which he gave himself up to it 
diverted his thoughts from the shame and remorse which stung him when he 
thought of the infamy attached to his name by his treacherous desertion of his own 
people to become a member of the ferocious and sanguinary tribes of the Apaches. 

Dona Hermosa, on hearing that Don Torribio wished to see her, gave order? 
for his instant admittance. She was talking at the time with her father. Don 
Pedro di Luna had hastened to join his daughter the instant he received her letter, 
and had already been some days in the camp. 

The interior of the toldo was greatly changed. Don Torribio had ordered it to 
be embellished with divers pieces of elegant furniture, stolen by the Indians from 
different haciendas. Partitions had been constructed, closets contrived, so that 
the metamorphosis was complete ; and, although the exterior remained as it 
had been before, the inside, in consequence of the alterations, assumed the appear- 
ance of a European residence. 

Manuela, Doha Hermosa’s nurse, had also returned wdth Don Pedro— a circum- 
stance extremely agreeable to the girl ; first, on account of the great confidence 
she reposed in her ; and again, because Manuela was indispensable for all those 
little services and attentions to which women of rank are accustomed. Besides, 
the presence of the nurse, who never left Doha Hermosa’s side in her interviews 
with Don Torribio, prevented any exuberant outbreak of passion on his part, and 
confined him to the limits of a respectful decorum. 

Whatever astonishment the red-skins might have felt at the alterations in the 
toldo undertaken by Don Torribio, the veneration and devotion they professed for 
the Tigercat were so great, that, with the delicacy which seems innate in their 
race, they pretended to see none of them, especially as the latter bad taken no 
offence at the conduct of the pale-face chief. Moreover, as, under all Circumstances, 
the latter rendered them energetic co-operation, being always the foremost in 
battle and the last to retreat, they thought it right to leave him to arrange his own 
affairs as he judged best, without any attempt to oppose him. 

“ Well,” said Dona Hermosa, when he entered, “has the Tigercat succeeded 
Ui subduing the exasperation of the tribes ? ” 

** Thank Heaven! he has. senorita ; but the atrocious crime committed by 


ffoman’s Will. 


69 


Major Barnum is unworthy of a man, and more the deed of a savage brute than of 
a civilized being.” 

“ Perhaps the major is not the author of the crime.” 

“The whites are accustomed to treat the Indians thus. Have I not heard 
them assert a thousand times that the redskins are not human beings? All 
weapons that kill them are lawful, and poison is one of the surest. This crime 
•alone is sufficient to justify me in having quitted the ranks of the monsters.” 

“ Speak no more on this subject, I beseech you ; you make me shudder. I am 
obliged to confess that reason is on your side. When we witness such horrors, we 
begin to regret that we belong to a race capable of inventing them. ” 

“What is the decision of the council? ” asked Don Pedro, in order to turn the 
conversation. 

“ To-morrow, at daybreak, a general assault will be delivered on ihQ presidio.^' 

“To-morrow!” exclaimed Doha Hermosa, m affright. 

“Yes,” he replied ; “to-morrow I hope to revenge myself on those who were 
my brothers, and ha\^ forced me to repudiate them. To-morrow I shall conquer 
or die.” 

“ God protect the good cause \ said she amoiguously. 

“Thanks, cousin,” replied Don Torribio, mistaking the meaning of her excla- 
mation. 

Don Pedro with difficulty repressed a sigli. 

“ The abtion to-morrow will be severe,” Don Torribio continued. “I conjure 
you, sehorita, not to leave the toldo. Should we meet with a reverse, no one can 
tell to what extremes the rage of the Apaches may cany them. I will leave twenty 
resolute men, vaqueros on whom I can rely, to defend you. As soon as the affair 
is over, I will send you word.” 

“Are you going already, Don Torribio?” said she, as she saw him move |pr 
the purpose. 

“ I must, sehorita ; I am one of the chiefs of the Indian army. In that quality, 
I have duties to fulfil, and must make preparations for the morrow. I entreat yo \ 
to let me go.” 

“ Farewell, then, if it must be so.” 

Bowing respectfully to her and her father, Don Torribio retired. 

“All is lost,” said Don Pedro ; “ the Mexicans will never be able to withstand 
the assault.” 

Doha Hermosa looked at him with a strange expression, and then whispered in 
his ear : 

“ Father, have you read your Bible ? ” 

“ Why do you ask, little madcap ?” 

“Because,” said she, with a coaxing smile, “you seem to have forgotten the 
story of Delilah.” 

“What!” he exclaimed, more astonished than ever; “do you intend to cut oft 
his hair?” 

“ Quien sabe?” she answered, shaking her head knowingly, and with a delicious 
assumption of bravado ; w^hile at the same time she put one of her fingers on her 
rosy lips. 

Don Pedro gave the shrug of a man who is utterly at a loss to understand, and 
who gives up an inexplicable enigma. 


CHAPTER Xirju 

PALE-FACE V. REDSKIN. 

The redskins m general, and the Apaches in particular, exhibit a surprising degree 
of craftiness when on the war-path, or preparing for a hazardous expedition. The 
best troops of the civilized world cannot compete with them in subtlety and wariness, 
such pains do they take to conceal and dissemble their movements. 

Towards three o’clock in the morning, just as the first pearly notes issued from 
the throats of the maw-kauds* nestled among the leaves, the Tigercat and Don 
Torribio rose from their beds, armed themselves for the fight, and issued forth from 
thdir toldos, followed by several Apache braves, directing their silent and rapid steps 
towards the centre of the camp, where the sachems of the tribes, crouched on their 
haunches around an immense brasier, smoked the war-camulet while waiting foi 
the great chief. 

When the Tigercat appeared, the Indians rose in a body to reverence their leader. 

The Tigercat, returning their salute, made them a sign to be seated, and turning 
to the amanizin, or sorcerer, who stood by his side, “ Will the Master of life 
remain neutral ?” he asked. “Will the Wacondah be propitious to the Apache 
braves? or will he be adverse to the war his Indian sons, united before the stone 
atepelt (village) of the pale-faces, are going to wage this day against their 
oppressors ? ” 

“At the bidding of the chiefs,” replied the amantzin, “I will question th 
Master of life.” 

Then, drawing himself up to his full height, he wrapped his bison-robe about 
him, and thrice paced round the fire, marching from left to right, and muttering 
words unintelligible to all, and which yet seemed to have a mysterious meaning. 
At the third round, he poured a coui (a small vessel) of water, sweetened with 
sviilaXy into a cup of reeds, plaited so closely that not a drop escaped. Next, 
having dipped a sprig of wormwood in the cotiiy he sprinkled the assembled sachems^ 
and emptied the water in three separate portions towards the rising sun. 

Then, bending his body forward, with outstretched head and expanded arms, he 
appeared to listen to sounds perceptible to him alone. 

At the end of a few seconds the 7?iaw~kaiuis lifted up his song again on the right 
of the sorcerer. Immediately his face contorted itself, and grew horrible to look 
at ; his blcod-shot eyes seemed ready to start from their orbits ; a whitish foam 

• h Mexican song-bird* 


pale-face v. Redskin, 


71 


oozed from the comers ©f his compressed lips ; a livid pallor overspread his 
features ; his limbs were convulsed, and his body was agitated by violent 
distortions. 

“ The Spirit comes ! the Spirit comes! ” muttered the Indians, in superstitious 
terror. 

Silence ! ” cried the Tigercat ; “the wise man is about to speak.” 

In fact, a painful hissing issued from the distorted mouth of the amantzin, which 
changed by slow degrees into words, unintelligible at first, but soon pronounced 
sufficiently distinctly to be understood by all. 

“The Spirit comes !” he exclaimed ; “ he has unbound his long locks, which 
float abroad on the winds. His breath brings annihilation ; the heavens are red 
with blood. Victims will not be wanting for the Wacondah, the spirit of evil. 
Who can resist him? he alone is master. The knives of the Apaches shall find 
a sheath in the breasts of the pale-faces. The vultures and urubus are glad ; they 
snuff the ample repast. Shout the war-cry ! Courage, warriors ! the Wacondan 
himself will lead )ou. Death is nothing ; glory is all ! ” 

The amantzm, having uttered a few other unintelligible words, dropped to the 
ground, a prey to frightful convulsions. 

Strange to relate, the men who had up to this time hung suspended on his lips, 
listening with strained anxiety to his utterances, had now no look or word of pity 
or interest for him as he lay writhing on the ground, but left him there, without 
further thought about him. It was because the man rash enough to touch a 
sorcerer while possessed by the spirit would fall a lifeless corpse : such is the 
Indian belief. 

As soon as the amantzin had ceased speaking, the Tigercat took up the word 
in his turn. 

“ Great chiefs of the Apache tribes,” said h^ in a deep voice, “you see that 
the God of you? fathers smiles on our attempt, and encourages it. Let us not 
hesitate, warriors ! Let us confound with one last blow the pride of our oppressors. 
Our lands are now free ; one single spot is still in the power of our tyrants. 
Let us conquer it to-day, and at sunset let the Spanish flag, whose fatal shadow has 
so long been the omen of misery and death, be lowered on our frontiers for ever. 
Courage, brothers ! Your ancestors, hunting in the happy prairies, will joyfully 
welcome those who fall in the battle. Let each repair to the post I have assigned 
him ; the hoarse cry of the urnbu^ thrice repeated at equal intervals, will g.ive the 
signal for the assault.” 

The chiefs, with deep reverence, took their departure, and dispersed in various 
directions. The Tigercat remained alone, absorbed in profound meditation. 

An awful stillness reigned over the scene. There was not a breath of wind, nor 
a cloud in the sky. The limpid and transparent atmosphere permitted objects to 
be seen at a vast distance. The dark-blue heavens were studded with a multitude 
of sparkling stars ; the moon was pouring forth her silver rays in profusion ; no 
sound disturbed the impressive silence, except at intervals, that low murmuring 
which, coming we know not whence, .seems the awful breathing of slumbering 
nature. 

The white chief, on the point of making his mightiest effort to enfranchise the 
Indian nations, and pave the way for the triumph of his mysterious combinations, 
yielded with delight to the tumultuous thoughts busying themselves in his brain. 
Communing with his soul, he scrutinized his own conduct, and fervently entreated 
Him who is almighty, and whose eye searches the heart, not to abandon him, if 
the cause for which he fought was righteous. 

A hand was laid heavily on his shoulder. 

Thus rudely recalled to himself, the Tigercat started. He passed his hand ovei 


72 


SoneTiearf, 


his damp brow, and turned to tfhe intruder. The sorcerer stood there, gazing at 
him with his perfidious eyes, and grinning an evil smile. 

‘‘ What brings you here ? ” said the chief abruptly. 

** Is my father satisfied with me ? ” replied the amantzin ; “ has the Wacondah 
spoken well to the sachems V 

“Yes,” said the Tigercat, with a gesture of disgust; “my brother has done 
well : he may go.” 

“My father is great and generous! The spirit that possesses me tore me 
grievously. ” 

The chief snatched a string of pearls from his neck, and threw it to the wretch, 
who caught it with a shout of delight. 

“ Go 1 ” said the Tigercat, turning haughtily away. 

The amantzin retired. He had got all he wantecL 

Don Torribio had left the scene of the incantation with the other chiefs, to rcpaiir 
to his post ; but, after proceeding a little way, he looked up to the sky, and mentally 
calculated the hour by the position of the stars. 

“ I shall have time,” he muttered to himself. 

So he hastily directed his steps towards the toldo of Dona Hermosa ; numerous 
guards surrounded it. 

“She sleeps,” said he; “sleeps, lulled by sweet childish fancies. O God! 
who knowest the extent of my love, and the sacrifice I have offered at its shrine, 
grant she may be happy ! ” 

He went up to one of the vaqueros, who, leaning against a tree, was silently 
smoking his cigarette, his eyes fixed on the toldo. 

“ Verado^'^' said he, with emotion he could not repress, “twice have I saved your 
life at the risk of my own. Do you remember ? ” 

“ I remember,” said the vaquero briefly. 

“ To-day it is I who come to ask a service. Can I rely on you?” 

“ Speak, Don Torribio ; I will do all a man can do, to do you a service.” 

“Thanks, comrade! my life, my soul, all I hold dear in the world, is con- 
tained in this toldo. I confide her to you. Swear to defend her whatever may 
happen ! ” 

“I swear it, Don Torribio. The toldo is sacred; neither friend nor enemy 
shall enter. I and the men you have placed under my command will die on the 
spot before injury shall happen to those you love.” 

“ I thank you,” said the chief, extending his hand to vaquero. 

The latter seized the bottom of his leader’s cloak, and kissed it reverently. 

Don Torribio cast one more look of affection at the toldo ^ which concealed, as 
he had said, all he loved in this world, and then went his way with rapid strides. 

“ Now,” said he, “let me be a man ! they are bold men we have to contend with. ” 

As soon as the chief had ordered the sachems to their posts, whefe the warriors 
were anxiously expecting the word to let them loose upon the foe, they proceeded 
to the different stations where their respective tribes were posted. 

They then commenced one of those incredible marches which Indians alone can 
perform — crawling on their bellies over the ground. Creeping and gliding along 
like snakes, they managed to station themselves, in less than an hour, and with- 
out attracting notice, immediately at the foot of the ramparts hold by the Mexi- 
cans. This movement had been executed with so much precision and success, 
that no sound had been heard in the prairie, and nothing appeared to have stirred 
in the camp, where all seemed plunged into the deepest repose. 

But, a few minutes before the sachems had received the final ordei's of the Tiger- 
cat, a man in Apaclie dress had quitted the camp in advance of the others, and 
«:reDt towards the fort on hands and knees. 


Pc^^-^face V. Redskin. 


73 


When he arrived at the barricade another man, who, leaning oyer it, had been 
listening with intense an^dety, reached out his hand, and helped him inside the 
town. 

“Well, Estevan?” 

** We shall be attacked before an hc'^r is over, major,** said the mayor domo, 

** Will the attack be serious ? ” 

An assault. The Indians are determined to finish t^e game at once; they are 
afraid of being all poisoned if they wait longer.*^ 

“ What is to be done ? ” grumbled the officer, 

** Let ourselves be killed, ’■ was the reply. 

** By Heavens ! a comfortable piece of advice I We can but do that at the last 
extremity.” 

“We might try something else.*’ 

“ But what? Speak, in Heaven’s name ! •* 

“ Is everything prepared as we agreed ?” 

“It is. But what do you propose? ” 

“ Give me twenty-five vaquerosy whom you can trust.” 

“ Take them ; you will lead them ? ” 

“ That is my affair, major. I will not answer for success ; for these red devils 
are numberless as the sands, but you may depend on my thinning their ranks.” 

“ That will do us no harm. But the women and children ? ” 

“ I have got them all safely to Las Norias.” 

“ God be praised ! Now we can fight like men ; our dear ones are in safety.” 
“ For a time they are.” 

“ What do you mean ? What is there else to fear? ” 

“ Only that when the Indians have taken presidioy they will most probably 
attack the hacienda''* 

“You are out of your wits, Estevan,” said the major, smiling; “and Dona 
Hermosa — ” 

“ I'nie,” replied the mayor domoy gaily ; “ I had forgotten her,” 

“ Is that all you have to report ? ” 

“ No, major,” he said quickly ; “ one thing more.” 

“ Out with it, then ; for time presses.” 

“ The signal for the attack is to be three screams of the urubuy at equal inter- 
Tals.” 

“ Good ! I will be ready for them : they will attack before daybreak.” 

The major and Don Estevan separated, to visit the posts in succession, to arouse 
the guards, and prepare them for the event. 

The preceding evening. Major Bamum had assembled all the townspeople, and, 
in a brief and energetic speech, and with the greatest frankuess, apprised them of 
the precarious situation of the pueblo; had explained his plan of defence ; and 
finished by telling them that boats were ready moored under the guns of the fort, 
to receive the women, children, old luen, and all those country-people who 
declined to join in his desperate resistance ; adding, that all who embarked would 
be conveyed at nightfall to the Hacienda of Las Norias, where they would be 
kindly received. 

We are bound to say that a few of the people in the town, dismayed by the energetic 
proceedings of the major, had recoiled from the idea of taking part in them, and had 
gone to the hacienda. There remained, therefore, in the town only resolute men, 
determined to sell their lives dearly, and on whom he could rely with confidence. 

Thus when, on being aroused, the immediate attack of the Apaches was made 
known to them, they manned the barriers confidently, with eyes and ears on the 
watch, ready to give file at the first signah 


74 


Sioneheau, 


One hour passed over without any occurrence to break the stillness of the nighty 
The Mexicans began to imagine that they had been summoned to the walls by a 
false alarm, as had already happened on several occasions, when suddenly the 
hoarse and ominous scream of the ttrubu arose. 

Again it broke through the silence, and a cold shudder ran through the frames 
of the besieged, who recognized the death-cry, and knew how little chance of escape 
existed. 

A third time the scream of the urubu arose, louder and hoarser than before. 
Ere it was well ended, the dreadful war-whoop broke forth on all sides, and the 
Indians threw themselves in swarms on the exterior defences, and attempted to 
carry them by escalade. The Mexicans received them firmly, like men who knew 
their last hour was come, and were resolved to fall amidst a hecatomb of foes. 
The Indians fell back in dismay, astounded at the vigorous resistance. Their 
measures had been taken so secretly, that they felt certain of surprising the town. 
As soon as they were in the open, showers of grape swept them down, and scattered 
death and disorder among their masses, 

Don Estevan, profiting by the panic, threw himself, at the head of his vaqtieroSy 
on the thunder-stricken redskins, and cut them down indiscriminately. Twice he 
renewed the charge with the courage of a lion, and twice the Indians recoiled 
before him. 

As long as the darkness lasted, the Apaches could not perceive the smallness of 
the force opposed to them, and the combat was greatly favourable to the pale-faces, 
who, sheltered behind the barricades, kept up a deadly fire on the dense masses of 
the enemy. 

But after about two hours of this obstinate resistance the sun rose, and lighted 
up the field of battle with the glorious splendour of his rays. The Indians hailed 
his appearance with clamorous shouts, and precipitated themselves with renewed 
fury on the intrenchments from which they had just been driven. Their shock was 
irresistible. 

The whites, after an amount of resistance determined on beforehand, abandoned 
a position they could no longer hold. The Indians, at the top of their speed, 
rushed in pursuit. But at that moment a frightful explosion was heard, the ground 
burst under their feet, and the mangled wretches, hurled into the air, were cast in 
all directions. 

The interior of the defences had been undermined, and the major had just issued 
the order to fire the train. The effects of the explosion were horrible. The panic* 
stricken redskins began to fly on all sides, and yielding to the impulse of theiy 
terror, were deaf to the orders of their sac hems ^ and refused to renew the 
fight. 

For a moment the pale-faces thought themselves saved. But the Tigercat, 
mounted on a magnificent jet-black mustang, and unfolding to the breeze the sacred 
totem of the allied tribes, rushed to the front, oraving in his single person the shots 
the Mexicans aimed at him, and cried in a terrible voice; “Cowards i as you will 
not conquer, see how a brave man can die ! ” 

His voice conveyed the bitterest reproach to the ears of the redskins ; the 
most cowardly were ashamed to abandon the chief who was thus generously' 
sacrificing himself ; they faced about, and returned to the assault with redoubled 
ardour. 

The Tigercat seemed invulnerable. He made his horse bound into the thickest 
of the fight, parrying the blows aimed at him with the staff of the -totem^ which hi 
held displayed above his head to encourage his men. 

The Apaches, electrified by the audacity of their great chief, crowded around himi 
u ndisma yed even in death, aiid shoutedi 


Pale -face v. PeHskin, 


75 


** The Tigercat ! the Tigercat ! Let us die for the great chief ! ” 

“Look there I ” cried he enthusiastically, pointing to the morning-star ; “look 
there ! your father is smiling upon your deeds ! Forwards ! forwards ! ” 

“ Forwards ! ” repeated the redskins, advancing with fresh fury. 

But the major knew this horrible struggle could not last much longer. The 
redskins had carried all the barricades ; the town swarmed with them. The 
Mexicans disputed it house by house, only leaving one to throw themselves into 
another when dislodged by main force. The redskins, formed into a solid mass, 
led by Don Torribio, charged up the steep street leading to the old p^-esidio and the 
fort which commands it. In spite of the ravages caused in their ranks by the 
grape from the guns of the fort, they advanced without wavering ; for they saw, 
after each of the discharges which showered death amongst them, the Tigercat ten 
paces in advance, bestriding his black charger, and brandishing the totejn, with 
Don Torribio at his side waving his sword. 

“ Come,” said the major gravely to Don Estevan ; “ the time has arrived to 
execute the orders I gave you. ” 

“You insist upon them, major ? ” replied the latter. 

“ I do, Estevan.” 

“ Enough, major ; they shall not say I disobeyed your last orders. Farewell ! 
or, rather, may we soon meet in heaven ; for I shall fall as well as 
you. ” 

“ Quien sahe? Farewell, farewell ! ” 

“ Let us still hope,” answered the mayor domo in a stifled voice. 

The two men silently clasped each other’s hands in a final pressure ; for they 
knew that, without a miracle, they should never meet again. 

After this leave-taking, Don Estevan collected some forty horsemen, formed 
them into a compact body, and in the interval between two volleys from the Ibrt, 
threw himself at full speed on the advancing redskins. The Apaches could not 
resist the impetuosity ol tlie charge, and fted info the nouses on either hand. When 
they recovered from their panic, the horsemen who had so rudely handled them 
had got on board two large boats, and were rowing swiftly towards the Hacienda 
de las Norias. Don Estevan and the whole of his followers were saved, with the 
exception of three or four who fell in the charge. The major had profited by the 
diversion to throw himself, with the remaining whites, into the fort, the gates of 
which were instantly closed behind him. Don Torribio ordered the redskins to 
halt, and advanced alone to the fortress. 

“ Major,” cried he, in a loud voice, “ surrender ! The lives of yourself and the 
garrison shall be respected.” 

“You are a traitor, a coward, and a dog!” replied the major, appearing on 
the walls. “You murdered my friend, who trusted to your loyalty. No 
•urrender ! ” 

“It is death to you and all with you ; for the sake of humanity, surrender ! * 
Defence is impossible.” 

“ Vou are a coward ! ” cried the major again ; “ here is my answer.” 

“ Back, all of you ! back ! ” shouted the Tigercat, driving both spurs into 
his horse, which bounded into the air, and flew off with the speed of 
an arrow. 

The Indians precipitated themselves from the top to the base of the rampart, 
seized with an indescribable panic ; but not speedily enough to avoid the fate that 
threatened them. The major had fired the magazines in the fort. A terrific 
explosion ensued. The gigantic edifice oscillated for a second or two on its 
foundations, like a tottering mastodon ; then, suddenly torn from the ground, rose 
into the air, and burst like an elephantine shell Amidst the last cries of “ Long 


76 


Stoneheari. 


live the Republic ! ” from the besieged, a storm of stones and bodies, horribly 
mutilated, hailed down upon the redskins, aghast at the horrible catastrophe 
— and all was over. The Tigercat was master of the Presidio di San- 
Lucar ; but, as Major Bamum had sworn, he was only in possession of • 
pile of ruins. 

With tears of rage, Don Torribio planted the totem of the Apaches on a strip <A 
pottering wall — the sole remnant to mark the spot where, ten minute^ iuse 
Che magnihccnt fort of San-Lucar. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE CATASTROPHE. 

SkLVERAL days had ^lapsed since the fall of the presidio of San-Lucar. The pueblo 
had been given up ^^>illage, with refinements of barbarity impossible to describe. 

Only the principal buildings had been spared, thanks to the measures employed 
by the Tigercat, who, to save the immense treasures they contained, had allotted 
them to the most powerful sachems of the tribes who followed him. 

The old freebooter had established his head-quarters in the former dwelling of 
Don Torribio Quiroga, which the latter had gi-acefully ceded to him. Dona 
Hermosa and her father had returned to their own mansion. 

The town, with none but Indians for inhabitants, had a mournful aspect ; no 
more commerce ; no more cheerful songs ; nothing left of the careless spirit of 
gaiety which formerly animart;d the Mexican colony. Here and there in the open 
street lay corpses, battled for by the birds of prey, festering, and infecting the 
atmosphere. In a word, the whole scene afforded the spectacle of that desolation 
which accompanies a war of extermination between two races who have been foes 
for centuries. 

About a week after the events we have described in the preceding chapter, three 
persons were assembled, about ten o’clock in the morning, in a room in Don Pedro 
di Luna’s house and were talking in low tones. These three persons were Don 
Pedro himself. Dona Hermosa, and the worthy capataz Luciano Pedralva, who, 
huddled up in the fantastical costume of a vaquero^ looked like a monstrous robber, 
exciting bursts of laughter from Na Manuela, who was seated, on the watch, at a 
window. Every time she looked at him, she broke into a fresh laugh, to the 
indignation of the capataz^ w'ho voted his disguise at the devil. 

Well, as we have agreed,” said Don Pedro, you must put on your pumps, 
Luciano, and prepare for the dance. ” 

“And it is to take place to-day ? ” 

“It must, my good friend. It seems to me that we live in singular times, and 
in a very singular country. I have seen many revolutions, but this beats them all.” 

“As for me,” said Dona Hermosa, “it seems consistent enough from an Indian 
point of view.” 

“Very possible, my dear. I am not going to enter into a discussion with you ; 
but you must confess that a month ago we were far from expecting such a prompt 
fe-establishment of the Apache power on these frontiers.” 

“You know, Don Pedro, I understand none of these matters ^ it appear* 


78 


StoneJieart^ 


to me that the Tigercat is not very maganimous for a man about to become a 
sovereign.” 

“-What do you mean by that, Luciano ? ” 

“I mean what every one ought to mean. The letter he sent Don Fernando the 
day before yesterday is explicit enough, for in it he tells him, shortly and sharply, 
that if he is found in the colony in five days after its receipt, he will have him 
A\angcd.” 

“If he can catch him ! ” said Doha Hermosa, hastily. 

“ That is understood,” replied the capataz. 

“What is there in that to astonish you, Luciano?” said Don Pedro. “By 
Heavens ! what extraordinary things have I witnessed in my life ! I myself know 
a score of people to whom the same threats have been made, and who are yet alive 
and well.” 

“ It is all one ; but, in spite of that, I do not like it.” 

“ But this is all foreign to our matter. You will return to the hacienda^ Don 
Luciano ; and remember my advice.” 

“ Trust to me, sehor. But I have something els* to say,” 

“ Say what you will, my good friend ; but lose no time.” 

“ I am dreadfully anxious about Don Estevan,” replied the capataz^ in a voice 
so low that it could not reach Na Manueia’s ears ; “for six da)'s he has dis- 
appeared, and we hear no tidings of him.” 

Dona Hermosa smiled slyly. “ Estevan is not the man to lose himself without 
leaving a trail,” said she. “Tranquillize yourself: al the proper time you will see 
him again.” 

“ So much the better, sehorita ; for he is a man to le relied on.” 

“Don Torribio ! ” suddenly exclaimed Manuela. 

“ Indeed I ” said the capataz ; “ then it is time for me to vanish.” 

“ Follow me quickly ! ” cried the mayor demo's mother. 

The capataz bent reverently before Doha Hermosa and Don Pedro, and left the 
room with Manuela. 

The door by which they went out had hardly closed upon them, when another 
opened, and Don Torribio entered. He wwe a superb Indian dress ; his forehead 
was lined with care, and his looks were sad. He bowed to Doha Hermosa, 
cordially grasped the hand of Don Pedro, and took his seat at a mute sign from 
the lady. ^ 

After the interchange of a few' common-place words, the daughter of the hacien- 
dero, whom Don Torribio’s downcast demeanour disquieted more than she liked to 
evince, turned gracefully towards him, and said, with an assumption of interest 
which was admirably acted : 

“ What ails you, Don Torribio? You look sad. What bad news have you 
received ? ” 

“None, sehorita ; though I thank you for the interest you take in my affairs. 
Were I ambitious I should feel content ; for all my aspirations have been 
realized. In receiving your hand a few days hence, the dream of my whole 
life will be fulfilled. You see, sehorita,” he added, with a mournful smile, “ that 
I allow you to peer into the depths of my heart.” 

“I am thankful for what you say ; but, Don Torribio, you were not thus a few 
days ago. Something must have — ” 

“ Nothing personal, I assure you. But the nearer the time comes for the cere- 
mony of taking possession of the territories we have won back, the greater dis- 
couragement masters me. I can by no means approve the determination of the 
Tigercat to have himsf^l^ officially declared an independent sovereign ; it is a folly | 
I cannot /'4>»*w*icnend The Tigercat know's better than any one liow impossible it I 


The Catastrophe, 


79 


Is to maintain himself here. The Apaches, brave as they are, will never be able 
to hold their own against the disciplined force the Mexican Government will 
despatch against us as soon as they hear of this outbreak.” 

“ Is it impossible to induce the Tigercac to change his purpose ? ” 

“ It is. I have tried every means to show him the insanity of his project. He 
will listen to nothing. The man has an object in view known to himself alone ; 
the wish he loudly proclaims — to regenerate the race of redskins — is a mere pre- 
text.” 

“You shock me, Don Torribio ! If this is the case, why not give him up ?” 

“Can I do so? Am I not already a renegade ? Shall I confess to you, seno- 
rita ? Although everything seems prosperous — although the future seems to have 
nothing but smiles for me — yet, for the last few days, an invincible despondency 
has crept over me. Everything looks dark, and I feel world-worn. In a word, I 
have a foreboding that I am on the eve of a terrible misfortune.” 

Dona Hermosa cast a piercing glance at him, which he did not observe. “ Banish 
these mournful thoughts,” said she, with emphasis ; “henceforth your fate is 
settled ; nothing can alter it.” 

“I believe so ; but you know, senorita, mischance may come between the cup 
and the lip.” 

“ Come, come, Don Torribio ! ” said Don Pedro gaily ; “let us to breakfast. 
It is the last repast you will share with us before the ceremony of taking possession. 
Is it still to be to-day ? ” 

“ It is ! ” replied Don Torribio, offering his hand to Dona Hermosa to lead her 
into another room, where a splendid meal was prepared. 

At first they were very silent ; the guests seemed ill at ease ; but by degrees the 
efforts of Doha Hermosa and her father to cheer Don Torribio succeeded in breaking 
the ice, and the conversation became more lively. Yet it was easily seen that Don 
Torribio had a hard struggle to repel the thoughts that rose to his lips, and to con- 
demn them to silence. 

Towards the close of the repast, the chief turned to Doha Hermosa. 

“ Senorita,” he said, “ to-night my future will be settled. In taking part, as an 
Indian chief, in the ceremony of to-day, I shall throw down the gauntlet to my 
•countrymen, by giving them to understand that I openly join the cause of the red- 
skins ; and that what they at first supposed to be an Indian raid grew, thanks to 
the Tigercat and me, into the rising of a whole nation. I know the pride of the 
whites ! Unable to utilize the immense territories they possess, they will still 
never leave us in peaceful enjoyment of tlic heritage we have carved out for our- 
selves at the point of our lances. The Mexican Government will wage a war of 
destruction upon us. Can I depend upon you ? ” 

“Before answering, Don Torribio, I must demand a clearer explanation.” 

And you shall have it. Reprisals are what the Spaniards most dread in an 
Indian insurrection ; that is to say, a massacre of the whites. My marriage with 
a Mexican would be a gage of peace from us to them— a pledge for the future 
security of their commerce, and the observance of the relations to be established 
between us. Our path is marked out, however, the chiefs of the tribes may object. 
Neither the Tigercat nor I will deviate from it a hair’s breadth ? Senorita, I 
address this frank and loyal question to you : Will you grant me your hand ? ” 

“ Why should you press so grave a matter at such a moment, Don Torribio ? ” 
was her answer. “ Are you not sum of me ? ” 

Don Torribio Quiroga frowned. “ Always the same reply,” he said. “ Child, 
you are playing with the lion ! If I had not been your shield these ten days past, 
yon would have ];een slain ere now. Do you fancy me ignorant of your petty 
machinations, or ensnared by your childish cakiulations ? You are playing for life 


Sionefleart. 


80 


&t death, silly one ; you are caught yourself in the net you spread for me. Yoi 
tire in my power. It is for me to dictate my conditions. To-morrow you will 
espouse me ; the heads of your father and of Don Fernando shall answer for your 
compliance ! ” Seizing a crystal vase of water, he filled his glass, and emptied it 
at a draught ; while Doha Hermosa gazed at him with a strange expression in her 
eyes. “In an hour,” said he, dashing the glass to pieces on the table, “you will 
attend the ceremony. You shall be beside me. I will it so I ” 

“ I will be there ! ” she said quietly. 

“ Farewell ! ” he exclaimed in a husky voice; and, casting another glance at 
her, he left the room. 

The girl rose hastily, seized the vase, and emptied its contents, murmuring : 
“Don Torribio ! Don Torribio ! thou hast thyself told me, that between cup and 
lip stood death ! ” 

“Now for the finishing-stroke I ” said Don Pedro. 

At a sign from his daughter, he went out upon the terrace, and placed two 
stands, filled with flowers, close to the balustrade. This appeared to be a signal ; 
for they had hardly been moved a minute, when Manuela hastily entered the room, 
saying, “ He is here ! ” 

“ Let him come ! ” said Don Pedro and his daughter. 

Don Estevan made his appearance. 

The hacienderOf having charged Manuela to be on the watch, carefully closed 
the doors, seated himself close to the mayor domo^ and said in a wliisper, “ What 
news have you brought, Estevan ? ” 

« 9ic # « * * 

The grand square of the pueblo presented an unusual spectacle that day ; a large 
stage, covered ’^ith a crimson velvet carpet, had been erected in the centre. On 
the stage stood a mahogany buttacca; another arm-chair, lower and less decorated, 
was placed on the right, and several forms were arranged in a semicircle behind 
the two seats. 

At twelve o’clock precisely, when the sun at its zenith was pouring down its 
vertical rays, five shots, fired from a gun at regular intervals, thundered through 
the pueblo. Instantly the different Apache tribes, constituting the Tigercat’s army, 
debouched by the several approaches to the square, headed by the principal 
fochefns in their robes of ceremony. 

These warriors were few in number, forming an effective force of fifteen hundred 
men ; for, according to Indian custom, the booty, immediately after the fall of the 
pi esidiOf had been sent under a strong escort to the villages, and the greater number 
of the redskins had dispersed, to return to their aiepelts. Those who stayed 
behind were tried and faithful braves, devoted heart and soul to the Tigercat. 
The latter, after the total defeat of the Mexicans, deemed it useless to retain a 
larger force about him, particularly as the first signal would bring back the others 
to his standard. 

As fast as the tribes reached the square, they ranged themselves in good order 
on three of its sides, leaving the fourth open, which was presently occupied by a 
body of two hundred vaqueros^ who, like the redskins, naked motionless on the 
spot assigned to them — with this difference : that the Indians were on foot, and 
without arms, except the machetes at their girdles ; while the vaqueros were 
mounted, and armed to the teeth. 

A very few lookers-on, English, French, or Germans, who had remained in the 
town after its occupation, showed their pale and frightened faces at the windows 
of the houses in the square. Indian women, huddled together in disorder behind 
the warriors, stretched their heads inquisitively over the shoulders of the latter, in 
order to catch a glimpse of the proceedings. The centre of the square remained void. 


The Catastrophe. 


Si 


In front of the stage, and at the foot of a rude altar, shaped like a table, with a 
deep groove in it, and surmounted by an image of the sun, stood the great amantzin 
of the Apaches, surrounded by five sorcerers of inferior grade. All had their arms 
crossed on their breasts, and their eyes cast on the gi'ound. 

When every one had fallen into his place, five more guns were fired. Then a 
Orilliant cavalcade came curveting into the square. At its head rode the Tigercat, 
with haughty air and fiery eye, holding in his hand the totem^ and having ou his 
right Don Torribio, who carried the sacred calumet. Behind followed Don Pedro, 
his daughter, and several of the principal townspeople. 

The Tigercat dismounted, ascended the stage, and placed himself in front of the 
principal seat, but did not sit down. Don Torribio, having assisted Dona 
Hermosa from her horse, took his place before the second chair. The features ol 
the former, usually so pale, were now inflamed, and his hollow eyes were red with 
incessant vigils. He ceaselessly wiped the moisture from his brow, and appeared 
a prey to agitating emotions, which would break forth in spite of his efforts to 
control them. 

Dona Hermosa had placed herself behind her father, at a short distance from the 
stage. She, too, seemed to suffer from secret agitation. She was pale, her lips 
were contracted, and occasionally a nervous tremor made her limbs tremble, and a 
feverish flush passed over her face, which, however, soon resumed its former pallor, 
Slie kept her eyes resolutely fixed on Don Torribio. 

The Apache sache?ns grouped themselves at the foot of the platform, which they 
surrounded completely. 

A third time the cannon roared. Then the sorcerers stepped to one side, 
disclosing to the view a man firmly bound, who lay on the ground in the midst of 
them. 

The amantzin addressed the multitude : “ Listen to me, all you who hear me. 
You know why we are here assembled : our great father, the Sun, has smiled at 
our success. The Wacondah has fought on our side, according to the promise of 
our illustrious chief. This aiepelt is now ours. The chief elected by ourselves to 
command and defend us is the Tigercat. In his name and our own we now offer 
to the Master of life the sacrifice most agreeable to him, in order that he may still 
continue his almighty protection. Sorcerers, bring hither the victim ! ” 

The amantzins seized the unhappy wretch they guaided, and laid him upon the 
altar. He was a Mexican, taken prisoner at the capture of the old presidio. The 
^ulquero^ in whose house one of the first scenes of this story was laid, had, from 
avarice, refused to quit his miserable pidqueria^ and had fallen into the hands of 
the red-skins. 

In the mean time, Don Torribio felt his strength gradually deserting him. His 
eyes grew more bloodshot, his ears were stunned, his temples throbbed violently, 
and he was obliged to support himself by one of the arms of his seat. 

‘ ‘ What ails you ? ” said Doha Hei mosa, 

“I know not,” he replied; ‘‘the heat — agitation, perhaps; lam choking. 
But it is nothing. ” 

The pulquero^ extended on the altar, had been stripped of his garments. The 
wretch uttered shouts of terror. The amantzin approached him, brandishing his 
knife. 

“It is horrible,” cried Doha Hermosa, hiding her face in her hands. 

“ Silence,’* said Don Torribio ; “ the sacrifice must be completed.” 

The sorcerer, heedless of the cries of the victim, coolly examined him to find the 
right place for the blow ; while the miserable prisoner, wdh eyes unnaturally 
distended, gazed at him with an expression of fear in /possible to describe. Suddenly 
the amantzin raised the knife, and. thrusting it into the chest of his victim, laid it 


82 


Sloneheart. 


open the whole length of the ribs. The wretched man uttered a horrible €131, 
Then the sorcerer plunged his hand into the gaping breast of the victim, and tor# 
out the palpitating heart, while his assistants carefully collected the blood that was 
flowing in torrents. The sufferer writhed in agony, still making superhuman efforts 
to break his bonds. 

While this was doing, the sachems in a body ascended the stage, and* 
seating the Tigercat on the butacca^ raised him on their shoulders, shouting 
enthusiasticallj% “Long live the conqueror of the pale-faces, the great sachem of 
the Apaches ! ” 

The sorcerers meanwhile sprinkled the crowd with the blood of the sacrifice ; and 
the red-skins, frenzied with excitement, rent the air with deafening clamour. 

“At last,’* said the Tigercat, proudly, “ I have kept my promise : I have driven 
the pale-faces from this country for ever.” 

“Not yet,” exclaimed Don Pedro, in cutting tones ; ** look hither.’* 

A sudden change had indeed come over the scene, llie vaqueros^ up to this time 
impassive spectators, suddenly charged the unarmed Indians : Mexican troops fell 
upon them from all the entrances to the square : and all the windows were manned 
by whites armed with muskets, who poured down a pitiless fire on the red-skins. 

In the centre of the square were Don Fernando Canil, Luciano Pedralva, and 
Don Estevan, who mercilessly rode in upon the Indians, shouting : “ Down with 
them ! down with them ! Slay ! slay ! ” 

“ Carai V' exclaimed Don Torribio, waving the totem ; “what horrible treachery 
is this? ” Pie rushed forward to fly to the side of the red-skins ; but he tottered 
— a dark veil obstructed his sight — and he sank on his knees. “ God ! ” cried he, 
“ what has happened to me?” 

“You are dying,” whispered Don Estevan in his ear; “that is what is 
happening.” And he seized him fiercely by the arm. 

“You lie, dog!” said Don Torribio, trying to release himself. “I will go 
and help my brothers. ” 

“ Your brothers are slain, as you intended to have slain to-morrow Don Pedro, 
Dona Hermosa, Don Fernando, and myself. Die, wretch, with rage at seeing youf 
treachery meet its reward ! I have given you leche de palio * to drink ; you are 
poisoned.” 

“ Ah ! ” said he despairingly, and drawing himself on his knees to the edge of 
the platform ; “ woe to me ; woe ; Ip^aven is just.” 

In the square the Mexicans were making a horrible carnage. “ Remember 
Don Jose de Kalbris,” they cried ; “ revenge Major Barnum ! ” 

It was no battle ; it was a fearful butchery. Several of the chiefs, flying before 
Don Fernando, Luciano, and Don Estevan, threw themselves upon the stage as a 
last place of refuge. 

“Ha !” shouted Don Torribio, with a bound like a jaguar, seizing Don Fer- 
nando by the throat ; “at least I shall not die unavenged.” A moment of terrible 
anxiety ensued. “No,” he continued, quitting his grasp on his foe, and falling 
backwards, “it would be the act of a coward. My life belongs to this man ; he 
won it from me. ” 

The bystanders could not repress a cry of admiration. Don Fernando coolly 
raised his rifle to his shoulder, and discharged its contents point-blank into the 
breast of the man stretched at his feet. 

“ Thus perish all traitors ! ” he cried. 

“ Great God I ” freely exclaimed Don Torribio, by a supreme effort rising to his 
knees, and looking up to heaven with an expression of sublime hope irradiating 


* Literaliy, millc from a pall ; poison. 


The Catastrophe, 


83 


his features— “Great God, I thank Thee ! Thou hast forgiven me ! ” One last 
smile of unutterable happiness glided over his face, and he fell back and expired. 

Meanwhile Doha Hermosa had disappeared. When the Tigercat, who had 
been fighting like a lion in the midst of the fray, perceived that all was lost, and 
that nothing but flight could save him from the fate to w^hich the Mexicans had 
doomed him, should he fall into their hands, he rallied round him a handful of 
his bravest warriors, seized Doha Hermosa, regardless of her cries and prayers, 
threw her across his saddle, spurred his horse into the thickest of the 7fiMee, cut his 
passage through, and, followed by his faithful braves, succeeded in getting out of 
the town and gaining the prairie. 

It was too late for pursuit when the Mexicans became aware of his flight ; the 
old freebooter was already beyond their reach, carrying his prey with him, like an 
eagle bearing a lamb in his talons. 


CHAPTER XV. 


ONE MONTH LATER. 

It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. The rays of the sun, fSlling more and 
more obliquely, were gradually lengthening the shadows of the trees ; the birds 
were flying to their roosts, and nestling as they could under the foliage, with 
deafening cnes and pipings. A few bands of prairie wolves were showing them- 
selves here and there, snuffing the breeze, and preparing for their nocturnal chase 
among the tall grasses. At intervals the lofty antlers of elks and antelopes were 
suddenly rising from amidst the herbage, the animals quickly throwing back their 
heads, and commencing a giddy flight into the distance. The sun, close on the 
verge of the horizon, looked lik^ a globe of red fire behind the trunks of the 
stately trees. Everytiiing announced the rapid approach of night. 

In the virgin forest, about two nundred miles from the premiio of San-Lucar, 
where the last terrible episodes of our story occurred, and in the centre of a vast 
clearing, two men, habited like the gambucinos^ were sitting on buffalo- 

skulls, beside a clear fire which gave forth no smoke. They were Don Estevan 
Diaz, the mayor domo, and Luciano Pedralva, the capataz. They held their rifles 
across their knees, ready for an emergency, and smoked their maize pajillos in 
silence. Several peones and arrieros were lying about a few paces off, and bag- 
gage-mules were greedily munching the rations of Indian corn laid on mats before 
them. Eight or ten horses were tethered, to prevent their straying, close to a 
mcal{h\\\.) of branches, the entrance of which was closed Muth a zarapi. Apeon^ 
standing motionless with cocked rifle on the borders of a little brook which 
meandered round the extremity of the clearing, watched over the common safety. 

It was easy to perceive, from the fragments of all sorts which littered the 
ground, whence every vestige of grass had disappeared, and from the quarters of 
venison suspended from the boughs of a mahogany-tree, that the encampment we 
have described was not one of those temporary resting-places which the back- 
woodsmen choose for a night and quit at sunrise, but one of those more substantail 
camps which the hunters often establish as places of rendezvous for the trapping 
season. 

The zarap4 at the entrance to the jacal was lifted and Don Pedro made his 
appearance on the scene. His features were pale, his expression was sad and 
pensive. He looked carefully around, went up to the two men seated by the fire^ 
and spoke : “No news, as yet? ” 

“ None whatever,” replied Don Estevan. 


One Month Later. 


8S 


** This absence is incomprehensible ; Don Fernando has never before stayed 
away from us so long,” 

“ True,” said the capataz ; “it is more than thirty hours since he left us. Pray 
God no misfortune may have happened.” 

“No,” answered Don Estevan ; “Don Fernando is too well acquainted with 
the desert to incur much danger.” 

“But think whereabouts we are,” put in Don Pedro; “the country round 
about is infested by the most dangerous serpents, and wild beasts swarm in every 
place. ” 

“ What does that matter, Don Pedro ?” boldly answered Don Estevan. “You 
foiget that Don Fernando and Stoneheart are one and the same ; that in this region 
the greater part of his life was spent ; that it is here, for long years, he was a bee- 
hunteis and gathered the cascarilla bark. ” 

“ But how do you explain his protracted absence ? ” 

“You recollect, Don Pedro, with what disinterestedness our friend offered us his 
co-operation, when, in despair at the sudden disappearance of Doha Hermosa, mad 
with grief, and impotent to act, we knew not what steps to take to recover the lost 
one. We have been led from the presidio to this spot, following a trail invisible to 
all eyes save Don Fernando’s, who, accustomed to read the sublime lines of the 
wilderness, recognized it with singular ease and exactitude. The trail has suddenly 
vanished here — vanished in spite of the most minute and patient research. We 
have been eight days encamped in this place ; and every morning at sunrise, Don 
Fernando — whom obstacles seem to excite, rather than subdue — mounts and begins 
his search afresh. Hitherto his labour has been in vain. Yesterday he left us, as 
usual, at daybreak. Well, suppose the reason of his protracted absence, which 
makes you so restless, should be the finding, at some spot leagues away perchance, 
the signs we have sought for so long and unavailing ? ” 

“God grant it, my good friend ! Your idea glads my heart. But what traces 
could we find, after the painful exertions we have already made ? ” 

“You forget, Don Pedro, that we have to deal with the Apaches, the most 
astute savages in the wilderness, the most acute of all the red-skins in hiding their 
trail.” 

“ Holloa ! ” exclaimed the capata^i ; “I hear the tread of a horse.” 

“ Is it possible ? ” said Don Pedro joyfully. 

“ Yes,’’ said Don Estevan ; “I, too, hear a noise, but it is not the sound of one 
horse ; there are two or three.” 

“Yet Don Fernando left the camp alone.” 

“He has probably encountered some one on the road,” replied Don Estevan, 
laughing. 

“You are wrong to joke with us in our circumstances ; it is almost an insult to 
my sorrow. ” 

“ Heaven preserve me from such an intention, Don Pedro. The sound is 
coming nearer. We shall soon see what we have to do. I should not be at all 
surprised if Don Fernando has laid hands upon some Indian marauder, at the very 
moment when, concealed by the underwood, he was watching our camp, and spy- 
ing out our movements.” 

“ Canarios ! it is he himself ! ” cried the capataz. 

In fact the clear and sonorous voice of Don Fernando replied to the challenge 
of the sentry, and two horsemen pushed through the thick underwood which sur- 
rounded the clearing and formed a kind of natural rampart. 

Don Fernando brought with him a man whom he had firmly bound to a 
home to prevent his escape. As to the prisoner, he seemed to bear his capture 
lightly. He swayed himself comfortably in his saddle, compoi:ted himself with aa 


86 


Sioneheart. 


air of assurance, and looked altogether as impudent as possible. On reaching the 
fire, where our personages were assembled, he saluted them with a grimace, un* 
abashed by the looks of the standers-by. 

He was no other than our friend Tonillo el Zapote, whom we have presented 
to our readers on several occasions. 

Don Fernando was very warmly and heartily greeted. His friends burned with 
impatience to question him, and their curiosity was the more excited, as the frank 
and almost joyful expression of his features led them to suppose he was the bearer 
of good news. Don Fernando dismounted, embraced his friends, and unbuckled the 
girth which strapped the prisoner’s legs under the belly of his horse, thus giving 
him the use of his limbs. 

“Good,” said the vaquero, “many thanks, Don Fernando. I have had quite 
enough of it. My legs are tingling as if a million of pins were stuck in them.” 
He sprang to the ground ; but he had spoken truly ; his benumbed limbs could 
not support the weight of his body, and he fell heavily. The capataz hastened to 
raise him. “It is a mere nothing,” said the vaquero^ honouring him with a 
gracious smile ; yet I thank you, caballero. In five minutes the circulation will 
be restored, and no hann done. But if it is the same to you, Don Fernando, pray 
do not pull the buckle so tight another time. ” 

“It will depend upon yourself, Zapote. Swear you will make no attempt at 
escape, and I will set you free.” 

“ If that is all,” cried the vaqtiero, gaily, “ we shall soon strike a bargain. I 
swear, by all my hopes of Paradise, not to slip away.” 

“ Enough ! I will trust you.” 

“ An honest man sticks to his word,” answered El Zapote : “ you will have no 
cause of complaint against me. I am the bond-slave of my word.” 

“ It will be all the better for you if that is the truth. But I am doubtful about 
it, particularly after your late conduct towards me, in spite of the protestations and 
offers of service you made me.” 

The vaquero showed no signs of embarrassment at this straightforward thrust, 
“Men endowed with certain good qualities are sure to be misunderstood,” he 
replied in a wheedling tone ; “I never broke the promise I made you.” 

“Not when, after introducing Indians and other rascals of your own kind into 
iht presidio, you laid an infamous snare for me, and led me into an ambuscade? ” 

“ Yes, Senor Don Fernando, I was faithful even under the circumstances you 
mention.” 

Ray 0 di Dios!” impatiently exclaimed the latter; “I shall be glad to leam 
how you can prove your fidelity there.” 

“ Good Heavens, senor ! I was faithful after my own fashion.” 

This answer was so extraordinary and unexpected, that the bystanders could not 
refrain from laughing. El Zapote bowed gravely, with the proud humility common 
to men of doubtful talent, who in their inmost soul consider themselves unappre- 
ciated geniuses. 

“After all,” said Don Fernando, carelessly shrugging his shoulders, “we shall 
soon see. I know pretty well the extent of this elastic fidelity.” 

El Zapote returned no answer ; he merely raised his eyes to heaven as if to 
invoke it as a witness of the injustice done to him, and crossed his arms on his 
breast. 

“Before telling you anything, let me have something to eat,” said Den Fer- 
nando. “ I am fainting from inanition ; I have neither eaten nor drunk since I left 
the camp.” 

Don Estevan hastened to place provisions before him, to which he and his 
prisoner did great honour. However, the meal was short. Don Fernando’# 


One Month Later, 


87 


appetite was soon appeased ; he gave a sigh of satisfaction, after slaking his thirst 
in the limpid brook, came and sat down beside the others, and, without putting 
their curiosity to further trial, began to explain the causes of his prolonged absence 
in all their details. Don Estevan had judged correctly ; Don Fernando had really 
discovered the trail so long fruitlessly sought for. The trail took a south-west 
direction, towards the most unexplored regions of the Far West. He had followed 
it with a trapper's indomitable patience for several hours, in order to be well 
assured that it was the true one, and not an Indian artifice to turn his steps 
astray. 

The red-skins, when they fear pursuit, and cannot hide their trail, entangle so 
skilfully the many tracks they purposely make, and throw them all into such hope- 
less confusion, that it is generally impossible to distinguish the right one. On this 
occasion they had used a similar artifice with such dexterity and success, that they 
would have managed to outwit and lead astray any hunter less adroit than Stone- 
heart. But he, accustomed from childhood to their wiles, did not suffer himself 
to be hoodwinked, particularly as he thought he had recognized some peculiar 
signs, which would have escaped the observation of a less experienced woodman. 
Don Fernando, delighted wiih his discovery, had rapidly commenced his return 
to the camp, without neglecting any of the prudential measures requisite in a 
country where every bush may conceal a foe, when it struck him that the grass in 
a certain spot was waving in a manner not wholly natural. He dropped quietly 
from his horse, and, without other arms than the knife he carried in an 
iron ring at his girdle and a pistol, crept towards the suspected spot, crawling 
on hands and knees with the speed and silence of a snake gliding through 
gi'ass. 

After a quarter of an hour’s work, he reached the place, and with difficulty 
repressed a cry of joy on seeing El Zapote comfortably seated on the 
ground, the bridle of his horse passed over his left arm, and finishing a 
copious meal. 

Don Fernando drew a few paces nearer, in order to be sure of his man ; then, 
having carefully measured the distance, with a spring like a jaguar he seized the 
vaquero by the throat, and had him bound beyond the possibility of resistance 
before he had recovered from his astonishment. “ Aha ! ” said he, seating himself 
beside his prisoner, “ what a singular chance ! How are you, Zapote?” 

“You are very kind, caballero ; I cough a little.” And he put his hand to his 
throat. 

“ Poor fellow ! I hope it is of no consequence.” 

‘ ‘ I hope, too, that no evil consequences may ensue, senor ; nevertheless, I am 
not quite easy about it.” 

“ Pooh ! cast aside your anxiety ! I will cure you.” 

“ Do you know a remedy, caballero 1 ” 

“ Yes ; an excellent one, which I propose to apply to you.” 

“A thousand thanks, senor ! But perhaps that would give you too much 
trouble ? ” 

“None in the w^orld. Judge for yourself. I propose to knock out your brain, 
with the butt-end of a pistol.” 

The vaquero shuddered when the words were uttered ; but he would no< give in, 
“You really think that remedy would cure me ? ” said he. 

“Radically, I am convinced.” 

“ It may seem very odd, caballero ; but, with all due deference, I am obliged to 
observe, that I am of a totally different opinion.” 

“You are wrong,” replied Don Fernando, coolly cocking a pistol ; “you will 
soon End how efficacious it is.* 


88 


SionehearK 


** And you really think, sehor, there is no other remedy ?” 

“ By my faith, I see no other.” 

**But it seems to me a little too violent.” 

** You only think so. I tell you again you are wrong.” 

“ Possibly so. I would not take the liberty of contradicting you, cahallerom 
Have you any great wish to administer the remedy on this particular spot ? ” 

“ I ? Not at all ! Do you know any more fitting place ?” 

“ I think I do, senor.” 

And whereabouts is the place, comrade ? ” 

“ Good Heavens ! caballero^ I may be mistaken ; but still I think it would be 
a pity so marvellous a secret as this remedy should be lost, for want of an eye- 
witness to its efficacy. Consequently, I wish you to take me where we can find 
one.” 

** Very well ! I suppose you know of such a place, not very far hence ? ” 

“Yes, Caballero ; I even fancy you would be charmed to see those to whom 1 
wish to present you.” 

“That depends upon who they are.” 

“You know them very well, senor; one of them is the Tigercat — a most 
amiable Caballero^ 

“ And you will undertake to lead me to him ?” 

“Whenever you please : this very instant if you like.” 

Don Fernando replaced the pistol in his belt. “Not directly. No,” he said ; 
“ we must first report ourselves at the camp, where my friends expect me. I find 
you are not quite so ill as I thought ; and I need not administer my remedy just 
now. We can always fall back upon it some other time, if it is necessary.” 

“I can assure you there is no hurry at all,” replied the vaquero^ 2 iVL 

engaging smile. 

Thus the business was concluded between the two men, who knowing each 
other for a long time, were perfectly aware of what each could expect from the 
other. Don Fernando put no faith in Tonillo, so he took good care to remove 
all temptation to stray from his side, by leaving him bound as he was — a proceed- 
ing against which the vaquero did not remc->strate. 

But as night had fallen while they were taiKing, they made such arrangements 
as they could for sleeping where they were, giving up all idea of rejoining the 
camp until the morrow. Two or three times in the course of the night the 
vaquero surreptitiously tried to free himself from the bonds in which he lay ; but 
each time he endeavoured to put his project into execution, he saw the large blue 
eyes of the hunter fixed steadfastly upon him. 

“ Do you still feel indisposed ? ” he asked, the last time the prisoner made his 
attempt. 

“ Not at all ! ” replied the vaquero hastily ; “not at all ! ” 

“ I am glad to hear it ; but,” added he slowly and emphatically, “ your inability 
to sleep made me anxious about you.” 

The vaquero took the hint, shut his eyes without another word, and did not open 
them again till daylight. 

Don Fffiiiando was already alert, and had saddled the horses. “ Aha ! awake 
at last ? ” said he. “ Have you slept well ? ” 

“ Capitally ; only I feel a little numb. Gentle exercise would soon restore the 
circulation.” 

“ The effects of the dew,” said the hunter imperturbably ; “ the nights are cold.” 

“The devil !” said the vaquero, grinning. “I hope I shall not catch the 
rheumatism.” 

“ 1 think not The ride will do you good.” 


Om Month Later ^ 


89 


While he said this, Don Fernando had hoisted his companion on his shoulders, 
and thrown him across one of the horses. But, on second thoughts, he freed his 
legs, and set him upright in the saddle, reflecting that useless cruelty would only 
harden the man against him, who could give such precious information when the 
proper moment arrived. The vaqtieroy who feared he was about to make the 
loumey slung over the horse like a bale of merchandise, felt grateful for the half- 
liberty allowed him, and made no objection when Don Fernando took the pre- 
caution of buckling his legs together under his horse’s belly. 

In this manner the two men rode to the camp, talking on different matten, and 
apparently the best fnends in the world* 


CHAPTER XVI. 


PREPARATIONS FOR THE CHASR, 

All the time Don Fernando was telling his story, El Zapote had assumed the 
nonchalant attitude of a man perfectly satisfied with himself ; nodding his head 
affirmatively at certain passages, and smiling at others with an air of modest grati- 
fication. When the former ceased speaking, he thought it time to put in his word 
also. 

‘‘You see, senores, I made no objection whatever to following this estimable 
Caballero ; which means to say, that I am ready to obey all commands you may 
please to lay on me.” 

“ Here is a compliment ! ” said Don Fernando, with a malicious smile, “ which 
would evidently have been addressed to others, but for the surprise of yesterday.” 

“Oh, fie, Caballero r* retorted the vaquero, assuming a look of indignant 
denial. 

“ But,” continued Stoneheart, “ I will not vex you on that score ; your secret 
feelings towards me affect me in nowise. I thought I had given you ample proof 
a long while ago how little I dread you in any way. T will content myself with 
remarking, that, more generous than you, I have several times held your life in m.y 
hands, and never abused the power.” 

“On that account I am deeply grateful to you, sehor.” 

“ Pooh, pooh, Senor Zaoote ! ” replied Stoneheart, shrugging his shoulders ; 
“ you have quite mistaken your man. I have no more belief in your gratitude 
than in your good feelings towards me, and I have only refreshed your memory in 
this respect to induce you to reflect that, if I have hitherto condescended to pardon 
you, the amount of courtesy I could afford to expend on you is at length ex- 
hausted, and on the next occasion matters will end very differently between us.” 

“ I perfectly understand your meaning, sehor ; but, please Go^ such an occa- 
sion, I am quite sure, will never present itself. I repeat, once for all. that I have 
given you my word, and you know an honest man sticKS — ” 

^ “No more ! ” broke in Stoneheart. “ I wish it may be so, for your own sake. 
However that may be, listen attentively.” 

“ I am all ears, sehor ; I will not lose a word,** 

“ Although I am still young, Sehor Tonillo, I know one important truth, not 
rery creditable to humanity. If one wishes to attract a man, and insure hia 
fidelity, one must not attempt to act upon his virtues, but make sure of him 
through his vices. You are more richly endowed with these last than most men X 
kjiow.** 


Preparailoni for ffie 


91 


The vaquero made a modest bow in acknowledgment of the compliment. 
•* Senor,” he said, “you cover me with confusion » such praise — ” 

“ Is richly deserved,” continued Stoneheart. “I have seen few men in posses'* 
sion of such a formidable assortment of vices as you, my friend. Yours are so 
many, that I was at a loss which to select. But among these vices are a few 
more prominent than the rest : for instance : your avarice has acquired a pro- 
digious development; I am going to appeal to vour avarice.” 

The vaquero’ s eyes sparkled -vyuth greed. “What do you want me to do?” 
said he. 

“ First, let me tell you what I will give you ; after that I will explain what 1 
require.” 

The leering, cunning face of the bandit instantly grew serious ; and, leaning 
his elbows on his knees, he stretched out his head to listen to Stoneheart’s words. 

“Yo\j know I am rich, and can have no doubt that I am able to fulfil any 
with you into which I may enter. However, to save time, and 
deprive you of any pretext to betray me, I will immediately place in your hands 
three diamonds, each worth two thousand five hundred piastres. You are so well 
acquainted witli precious stones, that a single glance will convince you of their 
value. These diamonds are yours. 1 make you a present of them. Neverthe- 
less, if you prefer it, I engage to pay you what they are worth ; that is to say, to 
forward seven thousand five hundred piastres on your first demand, after our re- 
turn to San-Lucar, in exchange for the jewels.” 

“And you have got the diamonds about you ?” said the vaquero, in a voice half 
stifled with emotion. 

“ Here they are ! ” replied Stoneheart, drawing from his bosom a small cjjeer- 
skin bag, and taking out three good-sized jewels, which he placed in the vaquero’ s 
hands. 

The latter clutched them with a glee he did not attempt to conceal, looked at 
them for a moment with eyes sparkling with triumph, and hid them carefully in 
bis bosom. 

“ Wait a moment ! ” said Stoneheart, with a curious smile ; “ I have not yet 
told you the conditions.” 

“ Whatever they may be, I accept them, sen or. Caspita ! seven thousand five 
hundred piastres ! It is a fortune to a poor devil like me 1 No navajada vill 
ever bring me in as much, however well they pay me ! ” 

** Then, you want no t-ime for consideration ? ” 

* Canarios! I should think not ! Whom am I to kill? ” 

“No one,” briefly answered Stoneheart. “ Listen to me ; all you have to do 
is to lead me to the place where the Tigercat has taken refuge.” 

vaquero shook his head discontentedly at this proposal. “I cannot do it, 
eaballero. By all my hopes hereafter, it is impossible ! ” 

“ Very well,” said Stoneheart. “ I forgot to mention another little thing.” 

“ What is it, senor ? ” asked the vaquero, in great trouble at the turn the con- 
versation was taking. 

“ A very trifling matter. If you do not accept my proposal, I will instantly 
blow out your brains. ” 

El Zapote examined the speaker’s face most carefully ; with a rascal’s intuitive* 
perception, he felt that the time for pleasantry was over, and matters were 
threatening to become serious. “At least, give me leave to explain, senor,” 
said he. 

I ask no better,” said Stoneheart coldly. “ I am in no hurry.” 

“ I cannot lead you to the Tigercat’s hidwig-place — I swear so ; but I can direct 
you to it, and tell you its name . 


93 


Sioneheaft. 


“That is something. Go on : we have already made some progress. I see we 
shall come to an understanding. I am in despair at finding myself obliged to use 
extreme measures ; it is so disagreeable.” 

“ Unhappily, senor, I have told you all. This is what happened : The Tigercat, 
after his flight from the presidio^ collected some score of resolute men, of whom I 
was one, who comprehended that for some time to come the Mexican Confedera- 
tion would be too hot to hold them, and resolved to plunge into the wilderness, in 
order to give the storm time to blow over. All went well for a little while, when 
the Tigercat suddenly changed his route ; and, instead of leading us to overrun 
the country of the Apaches, took us to the district of the bee-hunters and casca- 
rilla-gatherers.” 

“He has done that?” exclaimed Stoneheart, starting with surprise and terror. 

“ Yes, senor. You can understand how little I cared for a game of life and 
death, in regions infested by the fiercest beasts of prey, and, worse than that, by 
serpents whose bite is mortal. Seeing that the Tigercat was seriously bent upon 
taking refuge in this horrible country, I confess, senor, I got terribly frightened ; 
and at the risk of dying with hunger, or being scalped by the red-skins in the 
desert, I quietly dropped to the rear, and profited by the first opportunity to give 
the Tigercat the slip. ’ 

Stoneheart fixed on the vaqtiero a gaze which seemed to search his inmost soul ; 
the latter bore it manfully. 

“It is well,” he said ; “I see you have not lied. How long is it since you left 
the Tigercat ? ” 

“ Only four days, senor. As I do not know this part of the wilderness, I was 
wandering about at a venture, w'hen I had the good fortune to fall in with you. ” 

“Indeed ! Now what is the name of the place to which the Tigercat intended . 
to lead you ? ” 

“ El Voladero de las Animas,” answered the vaquero, without hesitation. 

Stoneheart instantly grew pale as death at this information ; and yet he had 
almost expected it, from the cruel and implacable character of his former teacher. 

“ Alas ! ” cried he; “the unfortunate girl is lost. This wretch has carried her 
into a very nest of serpents ! ” 

The bystanders were dreadfully agitated. 

“ What is this horrible place ?” said Don Pedro. 

“ Alas ! El Voladero de las Animas is an accursed r^ion, into which the 
hardiest bee-hunters and boldest cascarilUros scarcely dare to enter. The Voladero 
is a lofty mountain, which frowns over an immense expanse of swamps swaraiing 
with cobras, coral- snakes, and others, whose slightest bite kills the strongest man 
in ten minutes. For ten leagues around this dread mountain, the country is alive 
with reptiles and venomous insects, against which how shall man defend himself ! ” 

“ Great God ! ” cried Don Pedro, in despair ; “and it is to this hell they have 
canied my darling child ! ” 

“Calm yourself,” said Stoneheart, who perceived the necessity of restoring a 
little courage to the poor father; “ the Tigercat knows this accursed place too well 
to eater it without taking the needful precautions. The swamps alone are to be 
dreaded ; the Voladero is free from these noxious animals ; the air is too pure, and 
its elevation too great, for them to live there. Not one attempts to scale it. 
Courage, then ! If your daughter, as I hope, has reached the Voladero alive, she 
is in safety.” 

“ But, alas ! ” replied Don Pedro, “ how are we to cross this impassable barrier ; 
how reach my daughter, without encountering certain death?” 

An indefinable smile illumined the features of Don Fernando. “ I will reach 
lier, Don Pedro,” he exclaimed, in firm and resolute tones. “ Have you forgotten 


Freparaiiom for the Chase. 


93 


that I am StoneheaTt, the most renowned bee-hunter of the prairies. The Tigerca^ 
confided all his secrets to me when we were not only bee-hunters but cascarilleros. 
Courage, I say ; all is not yet lost.” 

If a man who is struck down with some dire and unexpected calamity has % 
friend beside him, whose stout heart and cheering words bid him hope, his 
prostrate courage revives, however faint and problematical the hope may be, and, 
confiding in the prospect held out to him, he gathers fresh energy for the approach- 
ing struggle. This was exactly what happened to Don Pedro. The speech of 
Stoneheart, who, for weeks past, had worked hard for him, — whom he had learned 
to love, and in whom he had entire confidence, — revived his hope and courage as if 
by magic. 

** And now,” said Stoneheart, addressing the vaguer ‘‘tell me how the Tiger- 
cat treated his prisoners. You remained with him long enough to give me reliable 
information on this point.” 

“As far as that goes, senor, I can answer without hesitation that his attention 
•to the senorita’s welfare was unceasing ; he watched over her with anxious care, 
often shortening the day’s march for fear of overtiring her.” 

His hearers breathed more freely. This solicitude on the part of one who 
respected neither God nor man seemed to indicate better intentions than they had 
a right to expect. 

Stoneheart continued his interrogations. “Do you know the nature of the 
Tigercat’s conversations with Doha Hermosa?” 

“ I overheard one, senor. The poor sehorita was very sad : she dared not weep 
openly, for fear of offending the chief ; but her eyes were always filled with tears, 
and her breast heaved with stifled sobs. One day, during a halt, she was sitting 
apart at the foot of a tree, her eyes fixed on the road we had just travelled, and 
4arge tears coursing down her cheeks. The Tigercat advanced towards her, looked 
at her for a moment with mingled pity and displeasure, and addressed her in 
nearly the following words : ‘ Child, it is useless to look back ; those you expect 
will not come. No one shall tear you Irom my Hands till the time comes when I shall 
think fit to restore you to freedom. To you alone 1 owe the ruin of my projects, 
and the massacre of my friends at San-Lucar. I know it well. Therefore, I 
carried you off, for vengeance sake. But this I will tell you, for your consolation 
and encouragement : my revenge shall not be harsh ; within a month I will give 
jyou to him you love.’ T>>e sehorita looked at him incredulously ; he perceived it, 
^nd continued, in a tone of implacable malice : ‘ My most earnest wish is to see 
jj^u some day the bride of Don Fernando Carril: I have never lost sight of this. 
Take courage, then ; dry those useless tears, which only disfigure you, — for I 
swear to you I will carry out my resolve, the very day and hour I have appointed.’ 
Having said this, he left her, without waiting for ,the answer Doha Hermosa was 
about to make. I happened to be lying on the grass a few paces from the lady. 
The Tigercat either did not notice me, or thought me asleep. That is how I 
overheard their conversation. To the best of my belief, that is the only time the 
chief ever conversed with his prisoner, although he continued to treat her well.” 

When the vaquero ceased, a long silence ensued, caused by the strangeness of 
this revelation. Stoneheart racked his brains in vain endeavours to discover a 
motive for the Tigercat’s conduct. He recalled the words the chief had once 
littered in his presence — words which agreed with what he had just heard ; for 
even at that time the old man seemed to take delight in the project. But 
Stoneheart vainly tried to find a solution to the question, why he should act thus 
In the meanwhile the sun had gone down, and night set in with the rapidity 
peculiar to inter-tropical climates, in which there is no twilight. It was one of 
those delicious nights of Southern America which are replete with sweet odoura 


94 


Stoneheart. 


and airy melody. TTie dark-blue sky was enamelled with a countless number of 
golden stars. The moon, now at the full, showered down a flood of soft and 
glorious ligKt ; and the transparent atmosphere made distant objects seem close at 
hand. The night-wind tempered the oppressive heat of the daj ; and the men 
seated in front of the jacal inhaled with delight the refreshing breeze that whispered 
among the foliage, suiTendering themselves to the influence of the night, which 
stole upon them with all its seductive languor. 

When Don Pedro and his two confidential agents first set out on their search 
for Doha Hermosa, under the auspices of Stoneheart, Na Manuela, that devoted 
pure-hearted woman, refused to leave her master and her son. She had loudly 
claimed her share in the risks and perils they were about to encounter, asserting 
her right to accompany them in her quality of Doha Hermosa’s nurse. The good 
woman had persisted so obstinately, that Don Pedro and Don Estevan, touched 
by her self-abnegation, could no longer resist her entreaties, and she had come 
with them. Na Manuela had charge of the commissariat of the camp. As soon 
as night had completely closed in, she issued from the jacal^ bearing refreshments, 
which she distributed with strict impartiality to all present, master and man. U nseen, 
the worthy woman had listened to the queries put to the vaquero. Her heart failed 
her at El Zapote’s story ; but she dissembled her grief, for fear of augmenting Don 
Pedro’s anguish ; and she appeared amongst the travellers with dry eyes and a 
smiling countenance. 

However, time passed on ; the hour for rest had come ; one after another the 
peones rolled themselves in their zarapis, and slumbered peacefully, with the 
exception of the sentries posted to watch over the safety of the camp. Stone- 
heart, plunged in deep meditation, was reclining, with his head supported by his 
right arm ; his companions now and then exchanged a few words, uttered in a low 
tone, that they might not disturb him. The vaquero^ with characteristic careless- 
ness, stretched himself out on the ground, indifferent to what was passing around 
him. His eyelids grew heavy ; he was already in a state of semi-somnolence, 
when he was thoroughly roused to consciousness by Don Fernando, who shook 
him rudely. 

‘‘ Hallo, sehor ! what is the matter?” uid he, sitting up, and rubbing his eyes. 
“ Is it possible to trust you?” 

“A question you asked once before, .senor. I replied, ‘Yes, if you pay me 
well.’ Now, you have paid me royally. There was but one man in the world to 
whom I could attach myself sooner than to you — Don Torribio Quiroga. He is 
dead ; you take his place. No dog would obey your slightest sign more faithfully 
than l/’ 

‘ ‘ I am not now going to put your new-fledged fidelity to any rude proof ; I 
shall content myself with leaving you here. But remember to deal frankly with 
me, and wdthout reservation ; for as surely as I have not hesitated to pay you in 
advance in the bargain I have concluded with you, so surely will I not hesitate to 
kill you on the spot if you betray me. And take this to your soul : if you deceive 
me, no hiding-place, however secret or remote, shall save you from my ven- 
geance. ” 

The vaquero bent his head, and answered unhesitatingly : “Senor Don Fernando, 

I swear, by the Ciioss of our Lord, who died for the remission of our sins, that I 
will be faithful to you unto the death.” 

“Good,” said Stoneheart; “1 believe you, Zapote. Sleep now, if you are 
able.” . 

The vaquero did not wairfor a repetition of the words, but rolled over, and was 
soon fast asleep. 

“ Senores,” said Stoneheart, turning to his friends, “it is lime for you lu rest. 


Preparations for the Chase, 


9 :» 


As for me, I must watch a while. Be of good courage, Don Pedro ; our position is 
fer from desperate. The more I reflect, the surer I am we shall tear from the 
Tigercat the prey he holds in his grasp, and longs to devour. Be not too anxious; 
wad if you should not see me to-morrow, do not on any pretext leave this encamp- 
ment till my return : my absence will not be long. Good night to all ! ” Having 
laid this, Stoneheart crossed his arms on his breast, and returned to his »ombre 
meditations. 

His friends, respecting his wish to be alone, withdrew ; and ten minutes later 
•M the inmates in the CAinpi except Stoneheart and the sentinels, were asleep or 

9«ex»td lo tkep. 





CHAPTER XVIL 


THE CHASE. 

Deep silence prevailed through the wilderness, broken only at long intemds by 
the growling of the jaguar at the spring, or the barking of the prairie-dog in his 
burrow. Stoneheart had not moved after his friends left him. Suddenly a hand 
was laid on his shoulder. He started up in an instant. Don Estevan stood beside 
him. “You have something to tell me ? ” said he. 

“ I have,” replied Don Estevan, seating himself at his side. “ I waited till all 
were asleep before I sought you out. You are meditating an expedition to the 
camp of the Tigercat ? ” 

Stoneheart replied by a smile. 

“ Have I guessed aright ? ” said the mayor domo, 

“ Perhaps you have, Estevan ; but how does that concern you ? ” 

“ More than you think, Fernando. Such an expedition is as dangerous as can 
be imagined. I will not let you commit so great a folly as to attempt it alone. 
Remember that, from our first meeting, we hjpve been irresistibly attracted to each 
other. Everything ought to be in common between us. Who can tell the danger 
to which you wouW be exposed in the expedition you are about to undertake ? 
This is what I have come to tell you : half of that danger is mine.” 

“Brother,” replied Stoneheart, mi;ch moved, “.I feared this would happen ; I 
dreaded the demand you have yust made. Every man has a destiny in this world ; 
mine is to be wretched, i^ei me Hiinl it. Your destiny smiles upon you ; you 
have a mother, who adores you. I am alone : if I perish, none save yourself 
will regret me . Should you fall by my side, you leave me a life-long sorrow for 
having caused your death.” 

‘ ‘ Fernando, my determination is irrevocable. Whatever you may say, I shall 
follow you. Fernando, my duty compels me.” 

“Think no more of it, Estevan ; think of your mother, and her griet” 

“ I think of nothing but what honour bids me.” 

‘ ‘ Estevan, I cannot consent to whai you wish. Again I say, think of youi 
mother’s giief.” 

“My mother, Fernando, would be the first to bid me go, were she 
here.” 

“ Spoken like a man ! ” said a gentle voice behind them. They turned, and 
saw Na Manuela. “I have heard all,” she said. “Thanks, Don Fernando, foi 
speaking as you did ; 1 will never forget your words, But EstO'un is right ; duty 


The Chase, 


97 


compels him to follow you. Let him go with you. If he falls, I shall weep — 
perhaps I shall die ; but I shall die blessing him. ” 

Stoneheart gazed with admiration at the mother who did not hesitate to sacrifice 
her son to her sense of duty, regardless of the boundless love she bore him. He 
felt himself a weakling, compared with this self-denial. 

“ Go, my sons,” she continued, raising her eyes to heaven with an expression of 
holy fervour ; “ God, who sees all, sees your devotedness. He will reward you. 
The rule of the wicked on earth is short ; the protection of the Almighty will be 
with you — will defend you in every danger.” 

“ Farewell, mother,” replied the two men, moved even to tears. 

The noble woman pressed them to her heart, but could not part from them 
without an effort. Remember this law,” she said, — “ it is the basis of honour : 
do your duty, whatever may happen. Farewell, farewell ! ” She turned, and 
hastily entered the jacal; for, in spite of herself, tears were regaining the mastery, 
and she would weaken their resolution. The others were silent for a time. 

“You see,” said Don Estevan, at last, “ my mother herself orders me to follow 
you.” 

“Be it as you will, then,” said Stoneheart, with a sigh; “I will no longer 
oppose your wishes.” 

“ Thank Heaven ! ” exclaimed the mayor domo. 

Stoneheart carefully examined the heavens. “It is ten o’clock,” he said. 
“We must go.” 

Don Estevan left him to bring up the horses. They were soon saddled. The 
men left the camp, gave their horses the spur, and dashed into the desert. By 
sunrise they had ridden six leagues. They were following the course of one of 
those nameless rivers which ultimately fall into some larger stream. 

“ Let us halt here awhile,” said Stoneheart, “ and breathe our horses.” 

Dismounting, they took the bits from the horses’ mouths, leaving them at 
liberty to crop the luxuriant grass on the banks of the river. 

“ The time has come, Estevan,” said Don Fernando, “when I must teach you 
something, without which it would be impossible to avoid the dangers we are about 
to encounter. I must reveal a secret known only to the ‘bee-hunters.’ Hardly 
two leagues farther on, we shall have to enter the swamps, swarming with 
serpents, and we must take the requisite precautions against their fatal bite ; for 
every reptile we shall meet on the road will be of the most venomous species.” 

“ The devil ! ” ejaculated Don Estevan, turning somewhat pale. 

“ I will give you a lesson. When we have once put on our armour, we can 
trample with impunity on the heads of the most dangerous. ” 

“ CaraiT' replied Don Estevan ; “ your secret is worth knowing.” 

“You shall prove it soon. Come with me. Of course you are acquainted 
with the guaco ? ” 

“ I have often helped it in its battles with snakes.” 

“Very well. I dare say you are ignorant of the means this intelligent bird 
employs to heal the wounds in the mortal combats which always terminate in the 
destruction of the reptile ? ” 

“ I confess, Fewiando, that I have never attempted k) fathom the mystery.” 

“ Then it is lucky, Estevan, that I thought for both. Come, I see several 
mikania twisting round the cork-trees. We will take a supply of the leaves of the 
guaco-creeper.” 

Don Estevan, without troubling his head concerning his friend’s intentions, set 
about collecting the leaves of the creeper he had pointed out. By dint of exertion, 
a goodly number were soon heaped upon the ground. When Stonehea t 
deemed the quantity sufficient, he gathered them up in his zarapdy and returned to 

H 


gS 


Sioneheart, 


the spot where they had left their horses. Without further explanation, he begin 
to pound the leaves on a flat stone he brought from the edge of the water. Don 
Estevan, taking great interest in the mysterious operation, occupied himself in 
collecting in a coui (or gourd) the juice which ran from the leaves as Stoneheart 
crushed them. The work lasted an hour. 

“ What are we to do now ? ” said Don Estevan, puzzled at what he saw being 
done. 

“That is a delicate question, my friend,’* replied Stoneheart, with a laugh. 

We must undress ; then, with the point of the navaja^ we will make longitudinal 
incisions in our breasts, our aims, thighs, and between the fingers and toes, just 
deep enough to cause blood to flow. Afterwards we will carefully inject the 
liquid we have collected into these incisions.” 

* ‘ But what good will it do us ? ” 

“ Only the least in the world ! We shall be invulnerable. We shall be able to 
trample thousands of snakes under our feet, and their bites shall do us no more 
harm than the prick of a pin.” 

Stoneheart said no more, but undressed himself, and coolly began to make 
incisions in h js body. Don Estevan followed his example. After slicing themselves 
in this fashion, they rubbed the cuts with the juice of the creeper, leaving the 
liquid time to dry in before they resumed their dress. 

“Well, that is done,” said Stoneheart. “ We need not keep our horses : the 
poor brutes would infallibly perish. We will leave them here, and pick them up 
whew we return.” 

The saddles were carefully hidden under some bushes, and the two hardy 
adventurers commenced th^r journey oh foot, trailing their rifles, and holding in 
one hand a slender but ^tough twig of mezquito., to cut the reptiles in two which 
might dispute their passage. They marched rapidly, one behind the other, shaking 
the grasses on right and left with their rods, to dislodge the snakes, and following 
a track left by a numerous body of horsemen. 

Suddenly they saw a dead body before them, horribly swollen and putrefied. 

“ Ah ! ” said Stoneheart, “here lies a poor wretch who did not know the use» 
of the guaco-creeper.” 

Just at that moment a sharp hissing was heard, and a beautiful little snake, 
about as thick as the little finger, and seven or eight inches long, crept from under 
the corpse, raised itself upon its tail, and, darting with wonderful rapidity, fixed 
itself on Stoneheart’s right leg. 

“ Your pardon, my good fellow,” said he coolly ; “ you have made a mistake ! ” 
and, seizing it by the tail, he crushed its head on the ground. “ It is a ribbon- 
snake,” he added ; “ bitten by him, you have just eleven minutes to live. You 
grow first yellow, then green ; then you begin to swell, and all is over ; with this 
exception — you have the consolation of changing colour once more, this time from 
green to black.” 

“ Car ail ” replied Estevan ; “ yours was a lucky thought, Fernando.” 

“ Do you think so, Estevan ? ” 

“By Heavens! it is self-evident. Ha! crush that coral-snake coiling round 
your leg ! ” 

“ Why, really, so he is ! Well, he is a gentleman who takes liberties 1 It is a 
lovely country,” he continued. “It is quite diverting to travel here. Halloa I 
more bodies ! — this time a man and horse. They have died together. Poor 
^nite 1 ” 

And thus they went on all day. The farther they advanced, the more numerous 
were the snakes ; they met them by threes and fours together. At intervals they 
found more bodies stretched across their path, proving that they were still on the 


The Chase, 


09 


right trail, and that the Tigercat had left the greater number of his companions on 
the road. 

Suddenly Stoneheart stopped, made a sign to His friend to be still, and listened* 
** If I am not mistaken,” he whispered, somebody is coming.” 

“ Some one ! ” exclaimed the astonished Estevan. “ Impossible I ** 

“ And why so ? We are here, and why not others ? ” 

** Quite right ; but who can it be ? ” 

“ We shall soon see ” ; and he dragged his companion behind a fliick bush. 

“ Cock your rifle, Estevan. Who can tell whom we may have to meet ? ” 

The 77iayor domo obeyed. Both kept motionless, expecting the arrival of the 
stranger. 

During the last hour the path our adventurers were pursuing had gradually begun to 
rise, with frequent turnings — a sure proof that they were quitting the swamps. 

Stoneheart soon saw a shadow thrown across an angle in the path, and then a 
man appeared. Stoneheart recognized him directly by his tall stature and long 
white beard. It was the Tigercat. Stoneheart whispered a few words, and then 
bounded at one spring into the middle of the path. 

The Tigercat showed no surprise at this sudden apparition. “I was coming 
to look for you,” he said calmly, as he halted. 

“ Then your task is finished,” said Stoneheart, ‘‘for here I am.” 

“No, it is not ended ; for while you show yourself in my camp, I shall go to 
yours.” 

“ You think so?” said Stoneheart. 

“ Certainly. Do you think to bar my passage ? ” 

“ Why not ? Is it not mine to settle affairs between us ? ” 

“ For my part, I see no reason. You are not looking for me, I suppose ?** 
“You are Wrong, Tigercat ! I came here on purpose to seek you.” 

“ Me, and another person.” 

“ YoJi, first of all, for we have a long account to settle.” 

“We are losing time,” said the Tigercat impatiently. “Listen, and try to 
understand me. Doha Hermosa is close by ; she expects you, for I have promised 
to bring you. She has charged me with messages to her father : and on that 
account I must go to your camp. First, I will lead you to mine — a sad one : of 
all my followers, but four are left.” 

“ I know ; I saw iheir bodies on the road. It is you who have slain them.” 

“ Never mind. What is done cannot be undone. But time presses ; will you 
follow me ? I wish to deal openly with you.” 

“ No ! I do not trust you. Why have you come into this fearful place ? ” 

“ Did you not guess, my son? Merely to be sure that my prisoner was safe.” 
“You made a mistake, for I am here.” 

“Perhaps I did. But enough of this. Here, take my rifle. Tell your friend, 
the barrel of whose rifle 1 see gleaming througn me branches, to come from behind 
his bush.” 

Stoneheart reflected for a moment, and then said : “ Come forth, Estevan I” 
His friend was at his .side in a moment. 

“ Keep your rifle,” said Stoneheart to the Tigercat. 

“Thanks, Fernando,” replied the old chief ; “I see you have not forgotten the 
old rule.” 

The Tigercat turned and led the way to his camp, the two others following 
exactly in his footsteps. In about an hour they reached it, pitched half-way up the 
Voladero, in a spacious cavern. 

“ Before going further,” he said, when they got there, “ I have a condition to 


lOO 


Stoneheart. 


** To exact ! ” said Stoneheart ironically. 

The Tigercat shrugged his shoulders. At a sign from me those men will stab 
Doha Hermosa to the heart without hesitation.” 

** Speak, then,” said Stoneheart, trembling for her sake. 

“ I will leave you here alone with Dona Hermosa. I, your friend, and my four 
comrades will leave the Voladero. In two days, and not before, you will quit the 
mountain, and come to your camp. ” 

** Why do you impose this condition?” 

“You have nothing to do with that ; is it so hard that you will not submit ? 1 
do not choose to explain ; answer — yes or no. Except on this condition you shall 
not see Dona Hermosa.” 

“ How do I know whether she is still alive? ” 

“ What good would it have done me to kill her?” 

“ I accept the conditions,” said Stoneheart ; “I will stay here two da 3 rs.” 

“ Good ! Now go to her ; as for us, we will leave you.” 

“ One instant ! My friend — will you be answerable for his safety ? I know I 
can trust your word ” 

“ I swear to you I A^ill look upon him as my own friend as long as he remains 
with me.” 

“ Enough. Farewell, Estevan; tell Don Pedro on what conditions his daughter 
has been restored.” 

“ I will tell them to him myself,” said the Tigercat, his mouth contorted with 
a strange expression. 

Stoneheart and Don Estevan bade each other farewell ; then the former rapidly 
approached the cavern, while the Tigercat, his four followers, and the muyar dotm 
went down the path. On reaching the trees, the Tigercat halted for a moment, 
and turned to the cavern into which Stoneheart had just entered. “Aha ! ” he 
exclaimed, with a sinister smile ; “at last I am sure of my revenge.” 

He followed his companion, and they were soon lost to sight, behind the inter* 
▼ening foliage* 


CHAPTER XVHl. 


EL VOLADERO DE LAS ANIMAS. 

We hare already said that vStoneheart had passed the greater part of his life in the 
wilderness. Brought up by the Tigercat in the perilous calling of a bee-hunter, 
chance had occasionally brought him, most unwillingly we confess, to the district 
in which he now found himself. Thus he was well acquainted with the Voladero 
de las Animas. He had often sought shelter in the cavern where Doha Hermosa 
was now a prisoner. The cavern, one of the greatest curiosities of this part of the 
country, contains several chambers, extending far into the hill, and two broad 
passages, which terminate in two apertures, like gigantic M'indows, exactly under 
the peak of the Voladero, where they hang at a height of a thousand feet over the 
plain, the conformation of the mountain being so singular that, looking down from 
them, nothing is to be seen but the tops of the trees below. 

Stoneheart entered the cavern, which was lighted throughout its whole extent 
by innumerable fissures in the rock, admitting sufficient daylight to enable objects 
to be perceived at a distance of twenty paces. He was very restless; the conditions 
imposed by Tigercat depressed his spirit to a degree he could not shake off. He 
could not help asking himself why the old chief had insisted on his remaining two 
days with Doha Hermosa on the mountain before he rejoined the camp. 

He walked slowly through the cavern, looking right and left, for more than 
half an hour, without seeing any indications of her presence. 

The sun was already disappearing below the horizon when Stoneheart had issued 
from the forest ; the cavern, sombre enough in the day-time, was at this hour 
in almost darkness ; so he retraced his steps, to obtain a light for the 

purpose of resuming his search,' On reaching the entrance to the cavern, he 
availed himself of the last gleam of daylight to look about him. Some torches of 
aco^a-wood were carefully arranged close to the entrance. Producing flint and 
steel, he speedily procured a light ; and, arming himself with a kindled torch, 
again made his way into the cave. He traversed several chambers without success ; 
and had begun to suspect that the Tigercat had duped him, when he perceived a 
faint glimmer at some distance in advance of him, which gradually approached, 
until its light was sufficient to reveal the form of Doha Hermosa. 

She held a torch in her hand, and was walking with a slow and unsteady step, 
her head sunk on her breast, in an attitude of poignant sorrow. Doha Hermosa 
came nearer and nearer, till she was within fifty paces of Stoneheart. Uncertain 
bow to attract her attention, he was on the point of calling to her, when sh« 


Sioneharf, 


IQ2 


chanced to raise her head. On seeing a man before her, she haughtily demanded: 
*‘Why have you entered this corridor? Have you forgotten that your chief has 
forbidden any one to enter it and annoy me ? ” 

“ Forgive me, senorita,” replied Stoneheart gently ; “the order was unknown 
to me.” 

“ Heavens ! ” cried she ; “ that voice ! Is it a dream ? Don Fernando ! " she 
exclaimed ; “ Don Fernando here, in this horrible den ! Great God ! what 
further evil is at hand ? Have I not suffered enough ? ” 

Overcome by emotion, she lost all consciousness, and sank, fainting, into the 
arms of Stoneheart. Alarmed at the occurrence, and not knowing how to re- 
call her to her senses, he hurried her back to the entrance to the cavern, hoping 
that the fresh air might restore her. He placed her carefully on a heap of dry 
leaves, and left her to herself. Stoneheart was a man whose courage reached the 
verge of temerity. A hundred times he had looked death in the face with a smile ; 
but when he saw the girl lying.before him, her features rigid, and pale as death, 
he trembled like a child ; a cold sweat broke out over his forehead, and tears — the 
first he had ever shed — rolled down his face. 

“ My God, my God ! ” he exclaimed ; “I have killed her ! ” 

“ Who speaks ?” said Doha Hermosa, in feeble accents. “Do I really hear 
Don Fernando ? Can it be he ? ” 

“ It is I ; it is indeed I, Hermosa. Collect yourself, and forgive me for causing 
this sudden fright.” 

“ I am not alarmed,” she answered ; “on the contrary, your presence relieves 
me, Ddu Fernando, if your appearance augurs no new misfortune.” 

“ Calm yourself, senorita,” he said, drawing gently near her ; “I am no omen 
of evil ; I bring good tidings.” 

“Why seek to deceive me, my friend? Are not you too a prisoner of the 
monster in human shape who has kept me captive so long ? But we shall no 
longer be alone ; we shall suffer together, ” she said, fixing an earnest look upon 
him. 

“ Dearest Hennosa, your sufferings are at an end ; I do indeed bring you good 
tidings.” 

“What is it you say, Don Fernando? How can you talk of good tidings, 
while we are both in the power of the Tigercat?” 

“ No, senorita ; you are no longer in his power.” 

“Free!” she exclaimed in ecstasy; “is it possible? Oh, my father! my 
father ! I shall see you once more ! ” 

“ You shall see him very soon, Hermosa. Yeur father is not far hence, with all 
you love.” 

Doha Hermosa fell on her knees, with an expression on her face impossible to 
describe. Lifting her clasped hands to heaven, she uttered a long, silent, and 
fervent prayer. 

Stoneheart gazed upon her with reverential admiration. The sudden transition 
from sorrow and despair to this excess of joy excited him infinitely. He felt 
intensely happy — ^happier than he had ever known himself before. 

When Doha Hermosa rose from her knees, she had regained her calmness. 

And now, Don Fernando,” she said, in gentle accents, “as we are really free, 
let us sit down outside the cave. Tell me all that has happened.” 

They left the cavern, and sat down, side by side, on the green turf, canopied by 
the night, which hung cool and odorous above them ; and Stoneheart began his 
story. It lasted a long time ; for Doha Hermosa frequently interrupted him, to 
make him repeat details concerning Don Pedro, and night had sped away before 
the recital had ended. “It is your turn, senorita,” said Stoneheart. 


El Voladero de las Animas, 


103 


as soon as he had finished. “You have now to relate what lias happened 
to you.” 

“As for me,” she replied, with a charming smile, “the month has passed in 
sorrowful thoughts of my friends. But I must confess that the man who bore me 
away treated me with respect — nay, on several occasions he sought to console 
me and alleviate my grief, by holding out hopes of my soon seeing those whom I 
love. ” 

“The Tigercat’s conduct is incomprehensible, ” said Stoneheart thoughtfullyi 
** Why did he carry you off, when he has restored you to us again ? ” 

“ It is strange,” said she; “what could his object be ? But I am free I Thank 
Heaven, I shall see my father again ! ” 

“ To-morrow we will go to him.” 

Dona Hermosa looked at him in surprise. 

“ To-morrow ! ” she exclaimed ; “why not to-day ? why not at once ? ” 

“Alas!” said he, “I have sworn not to leave this place until to-moiTOW I 
The Tigercat would only restore you to liberty on this condition.” 

“ Why should that man wish to keep us here ? ” 

“I will tell you the reason ! ” cried Don Estevan, suddenly appearing before 
them. 

• “Estevan!” they exclaimed, rushing towards him. 

“What happy chance brings you here ? ” asked Stoneheart. 

“It is no chance, brother. God has permitted me to overhear words spoken 
by the Tigercat, which have given me a clear insight into his plans.” 

“ Explain your words, Estevan.” 

“Yesterday, when I left you, Fernando, you turned your steps to the cavern, 
while we retraced ours to the forest. I know not why, but my heart was heavy, 
and I felt loth to quit you. I could not help fancying that the Tigercat’s urbanity 
covered soipe deadly purpose against you. So I went slowly down the hill. I 
happened to turn when I reached the forest, and saw that the chief had ceased to 
follow us. He had halted a few paces from me. He was rubbing his hands with 
ferocious delight ; his eyes were earnestly fixed on the cave, and I distinctly heard 
him utter these words : ‘ At last I am sure of my revenge!’ It was like a sudden 
gleam of light ; the diabolical plan the monster had conceived started forth in all 
its hideousness. Don Fernando, you remember how we became acquainted?” 

“ I do, Estevan ; the remembrance is too dear for me to forget it.” 

“You recollect your conversation on the island with the Tigercat, which I 
overheard ? the implacable hatred to Don Pedro he openly avowed ? ” 

“ I recollect it all, Estevan-; but to what ooes it lead? ” 

“To this, Fernando: the I'lgercai, aespairing to reach Don Pedro himself, 
endeavours to strike him through his daughter. Hence the long-concocted plan 
in which he has made you an involuntary accomplice. You love Doha Hermosa; 
you have done everything to save her ; he proposes to restore her to you on the 
simple condition of remaining two days here in her company : do you understand 
me now ? ” 

“It is frightful ! ” exclaimed Stoneheart. 

Doha Hermosa covered her face with her hands to conceal her tears. 

“Forgive the pain I have caused you,” continued Estevan. “ I wished to save 
you from yourselves ; and I could only do so by bluntly laying his machinations 
open before you. The question is now, whence this inveterate hatred to Don 
Pedro ? Satan alone can tell. But let us not mind that ; his plans are un* 
masked ; we have nothing to fear.” 

“Thanks, Estevan,” said Doha Hermosa, holding out her hand. 

“ But how were you able to return ? ” cried Stoneheart. 


104 


Siomheart, 


“ Easily enough. I had nothing to do but to tell the Tigercat plainly that I did 
not choose to travel in his company any longer. The man was thunder-struck at 
my deliberate desertion ; but found no words to oppose me. As for me, at the 
first turn of the road, I left him.” 

“ It was a capital idea, Estevan, and I thank you heartily. But now what are 
we to do ? I have given my word. ” 

“Nonsense, Fernando ! you must be mad. Are we obliged to keep promises 
which have only been extorted from us to do us harm ? If you take my advice, 
you will leave this place instantly.” 

“ True, true ! ” cried Doha Hermosa. “ Estevan, you are right. We will 
follow your counsel, and go.” 

“ Let us go,” said Stoneheart, “ since you wish it. As for me, there is nothing 
I should like better than to leave this accursed cavern. But how are we to get 
Doha Hermosa through the forest ? ” 

“ In the same way I crossed it before,” she said firmly. 

** How was that ?” cried Estevan. 

“ On a kind of litter. It was carried on men’s shoulders. You know the 
snakes do not spring very high.” 

“And we will wrap you in a buffalo-hide, so that you will be safe from all 
danger. ” 

Don Estevan went and found the litter, while Stoneheart got the buffalo-hide 
ready. All was prepared in a few minutes. 

“ We have not broken the conditions of the treaty,” said Estevan to his friencL 

“How so?” 

“ Did you not agree to meet the chief at the camp to-day, and not before ? ” 

“I did, and it would have been impossible to do so, had we remained here th« 
stated time.” 

“Well, who knows whether the Tigercat did not take that h)to account 
^ replied Estevan. 




CHAPTER XIX. 

THE HAND OF GOD. 

We will now return to the haciendero and the Mexican encampment. When 
Don Pedro awoke in the morning, Na Manuela reported Stoneheart’s departure 
In company with her son. 

“I feared something of the sort,” said Don Pedro, sighing; ‘‘Don Fernando 
was so pre-occupied last night. God grant they may bring me back my daughter 1 
Yet I cannot help thinking it would have been better to have consulted me before 
they left. We have here twenty bold men, who would have been able to do more 
than two men, however brave they may be.” 

“ I am of a different opinion, ” replied !Na Manuela. “ Surprises are the chief ele- 
ment of wars in the wilderness, and two men can often succeed by means of their 
apparent weakness, which allows them to pass unnoticed, when numbers would fail.” 

“ Please God they be good ! Manuela, if I should lose my daughter, in addition 
to my former woes, I could not survive it.” 

“ Drive away these sombre thoughts, sehor ; Providence watches over us all.” 

“ After all,” said Don Pedro, “as we are forced to remain inactive, we must 
exert our patience till our stragglers return.” 

The next da)% about ten in the morning, an unarmed Indian presented himsell 
before the sentries, demanding speech of Don Pedro. The latter ordered him to 
be brought forward. The red-skin was an Apache, of cunning features and reckless 
manner. Brought into the presence of the haciendero^ who at that moment waf 
talking to the capataz^ he stood motionless and with downcast eyes, waiting with 
the cold impassiveness characteristic of his race, till they should speak to him. 

“ What does my brother want? what is his name ? ” asked Don Pedro. 

“ElZopilote is an Apache brave,” replied the red-skin; sachem of his 
tribe sends him to the chief of the pale-faces.” 

“ I am the chief of the pale-faces. Tell your mission to me.” 

“ Hear what the Tigercat says,” replied the immovable Apache. 

“ The Tigercat ! ” exclaimed Don Pedro ; “ what can he want of me ? ” 

“ Thus says the Tigercat:. a cloud has arisen between the Tigercat and the chief 
of the pale-faces who have come into the hunting-grounds of my tribe. As the 
beneficent rays of the sun disperse the clouds that obscure the heavens, so, if the 
wise pale-face will smoke the calumet of peace with the Tigercat, the cloud 
between them will disappear, and the war-hatchet be buried so deep, that it shall 
not be found again for a thousand moons and ten. I have said. ” 

“ Indian !” replied Don Pedro, in accents of sadness, “your chief has done 
me much harm, yet I know not the cause of his hatred to me. But Pleaven forbid 
I should reject his proposal, if he entertains the wish to end the difference existing 
between us. Bid liim come.*" 


io6 


Stonekearf, 


The Apache listened with evident attention to the words of the kaciendero. 
When the latter ceased, he answered : * ‘ Wagh ! my father has spoken well. 
Wisdom has taken up her abode in him. The chief will come : but who will 
insure his safety when in the camp of the pale-faces — he alone, with twenty Yarri 
(Spanish) braves around him ? ” 

“My word of honour, red- skin ; my word of honour, — which is worth more 
than all your chief could give me, ” said Don Pedro, haughtily. 

“ My father’s word is good ; his tongue is not forked. The Tigercat asks nc 
more ; he will come.” 

Having uttered these words, the Apache warrior bowed profoundly, and retired. 

“ What do you think of that, Luciano ? ” said Don Pedro, as soon as they were 
alone. 

“ By heavens, sehor ! I think it conceals some Indian devilry. I fear the white 
who changes his colour, and turns red-skin.” 

“ Right, Luciano ! But we are placed in a difficult position. Before all things 
I must have my daughter.” 

“True, senor ! Nevertheless, you know, as well as I, that the Tigercat is a 
miscreant without faith or honour. Do not trust him too far. ” 

“ I am obliged to trust him. Have I not given my word?” 

“ You have,” growled the capataz ; “but I have not given mine ! ” 

“ Be cautious, Luciano ; and, above all things, do not excite his suspicions.” 

“ Make yourself easy on that score, sehor. Your honour is as dear to me as my 
own ; but I dare not leave you without means of defence.” 

With these words, the capataz cut short the conversation, and left the jacal. 
•'Ha ! ” said he, as he met El Zapote ; “ you are the very man I want.” 

“ Me, capataz / That is capital ! What is to be done ? ” 

••Come with me a while,’’ replied the capataz; “I must tell you the matter 
where we cannot be overheard.” 

An hour later, — that is to say, a little after eleven in the morning, — the Tigercat 
arrived at the camp, as El Zopilote had asserted. The chief was dressed as a 
gambucino^ and carried no weapons — at least none were visible. 

As soon as the sentinels recognized him, they allowed him to pass, and led him 
to the capataz, who was walking backwards and forwards. The Tigercat cast a 
keen look around him. Everything seemed in its usual state, and the chief saw 
nothing to excite suspicion. 

“ What do you want here?” said Don Luciano, roughly. 

“ I wish to speak to Don Pedro di Luna,” quickly replied the Tigercat 

•* Good ! Follow me; he expects you.” 

Without further ceremony, the capataz led him to the jacaL “Enter,” said he; 
••you will find Don Pedro there.” 

“ Who is there?” said a voice from within. 

“Sehor,” replied the capataz, “it is the Indian who asked the favour of a 
conversation with the chief. Come, enter ! ” he added, addressing the Tigercat 

The latter made no observation, but went into the jacal with the capataz, 

“You asked to speak with me,” began Don Pedro. 

“ I did,” said the chief, in a gloomy tone; “ but with you alone.” 

“This man is one of my oldest servants : he has my entire confidence.” 

“ What I have to say must be told to no other ears than yours.” 

“ Retire, Luciano,” said Don Pedro; “ but remain near at hand.” 

The capataz cast a look of rage at the Tigercat, and left the jacal grumbling. 

“ Now that we are alone,” said Don Pedro, “ you can speak openly to me;,” 

•‘ I intend to do so, ” said the chief, in harsh accents. 

“ Are you come to speak of my daughter ? ** 


The HaTid of God, 


107 


Of her and others,” replied the Tigercat. 

All this is a mystery, chief : explain ! ” 

It will not be long before I do so ; for I have longed, panted, for the opportunity 
lo meet you face to face. L,ook at me well, Don Pedro ; do you not recognize me ? ** 

“ I believe I never saw you before you received me as a guest in the ieocalV* 

The chief laughed savagely. ‘‘Have years changed me so much? Has the 
»r#me of Tigercat obliterated my own so thoroughly that it is forgotten ? As Don 
Gusman de Ribeyra became Don Pedro di Luna, why should not Don I^eoncio de 
Ribeyra become the Tigercat, brother ? ” 

“What words are these?” exclaimed Don Pedro, rising in terror. “What 
name have you uttered ? ” 

“ I have said that which is,” coldly answered the chief. “The name I utter is mine.” 

Don Pedro gazed at him with pitiful regret. “Unhappy man!” he sighed; 
“ how have you fallen so low ? ” 

“You are wrong, brother,” replied the Tigercat, with a sneer; “on the con- 
trary, I have risen to be the sachem of an Indian tribe. Long, long have I waited 
for my revenge! Twenty years have I watched; but to-day I have it — to-day it is 
complete.” 

“ Your revenge, miserable man ! ” answered Don Pedro; “ what revenge would 
you against me ? — you, who attempted to steal my wife ; you, who sought to slay 
me ; and who, to crown your infamy, have borne away my daughter ! ” 

“You forget to name your son, whom I also carried away, — your son, Don 
Fernando Carril, in whom I have contrived to excite a passion for his sister, and 
who has been these two days alone with her at the Voladero de las Animas. Aha! 
Don Gusman, what say you to that revenge?” 

“ Woe, woe! ” exclaimed Don Pedro, wringing his hands in his despair. 

“Brother and sister in love with each other; licensed by you, Don Gusman, 
^d married by me ! Aha ! ” and he burst into a horrid laugh. 

“It is too horrible,” cried Don Pedro, in the depths of despair. “It is a lie, 
wretch ! Bandit as you are, you dare not meditate a crime so terrible ! You are 
but boasting, miscreant! Your tale cannot be true; to believe it, would be to 
doubt the justice of Heaven ! ” 

“You do not believe my words, brother?” replied the Tigercat, in a sarcastic 
lone. “ As you please. Here come your children : ask them.” 

Don Pedro, half mad with grief, was rushing out of the jacal, when Stoneheart, 
Doha Hermosa, and Don Estevan appeared at the entrance : the unhappy father 
was stopped by the shock. 

“ Look ! ” said the Tigercat, with his usual sneer; “look how he receives his 
children ! Is that his love ? ” 

Doha Hermosa had thrown herself into her father’s arms, and tearfully embraced 
him, without seeing the Tigercat. “ My father, my father ! ” she cried ; “ God be. 
praised that I see you once more ! ” 

“ Who speaks of God here ? ” said Don Pedro in a hollow voice, and shaking off 
bis daughter. 

Doha Hermosa looked round in affright. Pale and trembling, she would have 
fallen, if Stoneheart had not hastened to support her. 

“Look, how they love each other!” sneered the Tigercat. “It is touching! 
Don Fernando, throw your arms around your father” ; and he pointed to Don Pedro, 

“He my father!” cried Stoneheart, overjoyed; “oh, it would be too much 
happiness ! ” 

“Yes,” said the Tigercat; “ Don Pedro is your father, and here is your sister! ” 
As he said this, he pointed to Doha Hermosa, and again burst into a diabolical laugh. 

The two young people were thunderstruck, Don Pedra whose nervous system* 


io8 


Stoneheart, 


had received a violent shock from the first revelation, felt his reason deserting him. 
He seemed neither to see nor hear, and to take no notice of the strange scene 
enacting around him. The Tigercat exulted in his triumph. With his anns 
crossed on his chest, he looked on with his sardonic leer, and said ironically? 
** They love each other, brother ; let them many.” 

‘ ‘ They have a right to do so ! ” exclaimed a ringing voice. All turned in amaze- 
ment. Na Manuela had entered the jacal. “ Yes,” said she, turning with an air of 
mockery to the Tigercat, who stood appalled, he knew not why, at the sudden appari- 
tion ; “the day of judgment has come at last ! I have waited for it patiently ; but 
justice shall be done, and it is I wh»m God has chosen to manifest His power ! ” 

AM present gazed with admiration and respect at the woman, v/ho seemed com- 
pletely transfigured. Her face was radiant ; her eyes flashed lightning. With calm 
and imposing steps she approached the haciendero. “ Don Pedro ! my much-loved 
master,” said she in a voice scarcely intelligible from emotion, “ forgive me ! I have 
made you suffer, oh, how long ! but God inspired me ! It is He, and only Pie, who 
Rotated my conduct. Don Fernando is not your son ; he is mine I Your son ” — • 
and sh£ brought forward Don Estevan — “ is here ! ” 

“ Don Estevan ! ” cried all present. 

“ A lie ! ” howled the Tigercat. 

“ It is the truth, ” briefly replied Na Manuela. “ Hatred is blind, Don Leoncio. 
You took aw'ay the poor nurse’s child when you thought you had stolen your brother’s. 
Look at Estevan, all ye who knew his mother, and deny, if you dare, that he is her son.” 

In ti*uth, the likeness was striking. Up to this time, Estevan’s position had 
blinded their eyes ; there w^as no reason to seek for a resemblance to any one : but 
now, when the veil had fallen, they recognized whence he sprang. 

“ But you will always be my mother ! ” cried Estevan with much feeling. 

“ Mother ! ” exclaimed Fernando, throwing himself into her arms. 

Don Pedro’s joy knew no bounds. 

The Tigercat, forced to confess himself foiled, uttered a howl like a wild beast, 
“Aha ! ” cried he, beside himself with rrge, “is it to be thus? But it is not over 
yet ! ’ He drew a poniard from his garments, and threw himself with all his force 
on Don Pedro. 

But an eye watched him. Don Luciano had stolen into the jacal, and noiselessly 
placed himself behind the bandit, whose every movement he carefully watched. As 
the Tigercat made his spring, he threw his arms around him, and pinioned him, in 
spite of the desperate efforts made by the miserable wretch. At the same moment, 
the vaquero bounded into the jacal, knife in hand, and, before any one could 
arrest him, plunged it up to the hilt in his throat. “ Not bad I ” he exclaimed. 
“ The opportunity was too good to lose ! My navajada was never given so fairly 1 
I hcpe this blow will gain me pardon for the others.” 

The Tigercat remained standing a moment, swaying hither and thither, like a 
half-uprooted oak tottering to its fall. He rolled his eyes around him, in which rage 
still strove with the agony that made them haggard. He made one last effort to 
pronounce a terrible malediction, but his mouth contracted horribly ; a stream of 
dark blood spouted from his yawning throat ; he fell at his full length on the ground, 
where he writhed for a moment like a crushed reptile, to the inconceivable horror 
of the spectators. Then all was still : he was dead ; but on his face, distorted by 
the death-pang, unutterable hatred survived the life which had just quitted him. ^ 

“ Justice is done,” said Manuela, with tremblingaccents. “It is the hand of God.” 

“ Letus pray forhim,”said Don Pedro, fallingonhis knees, and clasping his hands. 

All present, impressed by this noble and simple action, followed his example^ 
and knelt by his side. 


THE END. 



The treatment of many thousands of 
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